ALVMNVS  BOOK  FVND 


THE  RELIGION  OF  SHAKESPEAEE 


i^ij)il  obgtat: 

GULIELMUS  GILDEA,  S.T.D., 

Censor  Deputatus. 

Imprimatur : 

HERBERTUS  CARDINALIS  VAUGHAN, 
Archiepiscopus  Westmonast. 


Die  28  Apr.  1899. 


THE   RELIGION   OF 

SHAKE SPEAEE 


CHIEFLY  FROM  THE   WRITINGS  OF  THE 

LATE  MR.  RICHARD  SIMPSON,  M.A. 
II 


BY 

HENRY  SEBASTIAN  BOWDEN 

OF  THB  ORATORY 


LONDON :  BURNS  &  OATES,  Limited 

NEW  YORK,  CINCINNATI,  CHICAGO :  BENZIGEE  BROTHERS 
1899 


^.o\;sV^_  W\ 


VX-vyww^lS 


•  •  •      • 

•  •    • 

•I  •    • 

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PEEFACE 


The  following  work  has  little  claim  to  originality, 
the  greater  portion  of  it  being  based  on  manuscripts 
of  the  late  Mr.  Richard  Simpson.  From  his  singu- 
lar acquaintance  with  Elizabethan  literature,  these 
writings  offer  a  sound  foundation  for  the  study  of 
Shakespeare  in  relation  to  the  religious  thought  of 
his  day.  The  State  Paper  documents,  the  Harleian, 
Ashmolean,  Sloane,  and  Lansdowne  collections,  the 
Rutland  and  Salisbury  Papers,  Visitation  Returns, 
the  libraries  of  Paris  and  Lille,  the  archives  of 
the  English  College  at  Rome,  the  Douay  Registers, 
the  Registers  of  the  Jesuit  Colleges  of  Malines 
and  Bruges,  the  Stonyhurst  MS.,  were  all  within 
the  range  of  his  research.  It  must  be  remembered 
also  that  many  of  these  documents,  now  printed, 
indexed,  and  ready  to  hand,  existed  in  Mr. 
Simpson's  time  only  in  manuscript,  and  thus  their 
contents  could  only  be  acquired  by  laborious 
personal  investigation.  His  note-books  are  an 
abiding  memorial  of  his  exploring  zeal.  They 
contain  autograph  copies  of  every  rare  play,  tale, 
or  ballad,  cognate  to  his  subject,  and  abound  with 
varied  and  recondite  data  and  references. 

But  Mr.  Simpson  was  not  merely  a  collector  of 
rare  or  curious  material.     As  Shakespeare's  plays 


S5£Sv7 


VI  PREFACE 

were  professedly  composed  under  "  the  pressure 
of  the  time,"  Mr.  Simpson's  object  was  to  inquire 
what  contemporary  event  may  have  furnished  the 
political  motive  of  the  play,  or  at  least  suggested 
some  of  its  incidents  and  characters.  The  political 
allegory,  did  it  reflect  on  the  Government,  would 
be  necessarily  veiled,  and  would  pass  unheeded  by 
the  ignorant  or  the  inattentive,  but  would  have 
spoken  clearly  to  the  wise.  Doubtless  this  desire 
of  solving  the  dramatic  riddles  of  the  past  may 
lead  to  merely  fanciful  and  arbitrary  assertions, 
but  the  art  of  the  interpreter,  soberly  exercised, 
discovers  in  a  play  a  real  though  hidden  motive, 
which  would  otherwise  be  lost,  and  is  of  genuine 
historic  value.  Thus  Professor  Gardiner,  from  his 
intimate  knowledge  with  the  times  of  James  I. 
and  Charles  I.,  has  been  able  to  trace  the  political 
element  in  the  plays  of  Massinger.  In  these 
dramas,  Mr.  Gardiner  says,  "  Massinger  treated  of 
the  events  of  the  day  under  a  disguise  hardly  less 
thin  than  that  which  shows  off  the  figures  in  the 
caricatures  of  Aristophanes  or  the  cartoons  of 
Punch}  Now  Mr.  Simpson's  political  interpretation 
of  "  Richard  II."  and  "  Measure  for  Measure  "  rests 
on  evidence  as  sound,  we  think,  as  that  produced 
by  Mr.  Gardiner  in  his  solution  of  "The  Emperor 
of  the  East,"  or  "  The  Maid  of  Honour."  In  any 
case  Mr.  Simpson's  power  to  decipher  the  political, 
religious,  and  dramatic  allusions  in  Shakespeare  can 
be  gauged  by  his  writings  published  in  the  New 
Shakespeare  Society,  Transactions,  1 874-1875,  and 

*  "Political  Element  in  Massinger,"  New  Shakespeare  Society, 
Transactions,  316.     1875. 


PREFACE  VU 

in  various  separate  treatises.  It  is  true,  indeed, 
fehat  occasionally  his  interpretations  may  seem 
strained  and  far-fetched,  but  even  then  they  are 
interesting  as  proofs  of  his  ingenuity  and  research. 

The  present  work  is  based  on  a  folio  MS.  of  Mr. 
Simpson's  of  some  200  pages,  which  was  composed 
under  the  following  circumstances.  In  1858  Mr. 
Simpson  published  three  articles  in  the  Ramhler,  in 
which  he  defended  the  probability  of  Shakespeare 
being  a  Catholic.  In  1864  there  appeared  a  work 
on  the  subject  from  the  pen  of  M.  Rio,  the  author 
of  VArt  Chretien.  Taken  with  Simpson's  argument, 
Rio  allowed  his  imagination  free  rein,  and  described 
the  poet  as  an  ardent  and  avowed  champion  of 
the  Catholic  faith,  a  conclusion  far  beyond  that 
of  Simpson's.  The  two  writers,  notwithstanding 
the  totally  different  character  of  their  works,  were 
however  made  the  object  of  a  common  attack  in 
an  article  in  the  Edinhurgli  -Reme^,  January  1866, 
which  was  publicly  attributed  to  Lord  Mahon.  It 
was  primarily  as  a  reply  to  this  article  that  the 
folio  above  mentioned  was  written,  but  it  developed 
into  a  comprehensive  treatise  on  the  subject  of 
Shakespeare's  philosophy  and  religion  as  manifested 
in  his  writings. 

But  Mr.  Simpson's  treatise  has  needed  both 
remodelling  and  additions.  In  Simpson's  day 
Shakespeare  was  regarded,  at  least  by  such  writers 
as  Knight  and  Bishop  Wordsworth,  as  an  orthodox 
Protestant,  a  faithful  follower  of  the  established 
religion.  He  is  now  represented  as  a  pioneer  of 
"  modern  thought."  Thus  Professor  Dowden, 
Professor  Caird,  Mr.  Tyler,  and  in  Germany  Kreysig 


Vm  PREFACE 

and  Dr.  Vehse,  amongst  others  regard  him  as  a 
positivist,  a  pantheist,  a  fatalist,  in  short,  a  typical 
agnostic. 

By  both  these  classes  of  critics  Shakespeare,  how- 
ever, is  claimed  as  the  product  of  the  Reformation. 
And  it  is  against  this  claim  that  the  first  chapter  is 
directed,  where  an  endeavour  is  made  to  show  that 
Shakespeare,  so  far  from  being  the  product  of  his 
times,  or  the  voice  of  his  times,  was  in  direct  an- 
tagonism to  his  time.  And  this  point  is  further 
developed  in  Chapter  III.,  in  which  the  marked 
contrast  between  Shakespeare  and  his  contemporary 
dramatists  is  set  forth.  That  Shakespeare's  prin- 
ciples are  as  little  in  accord  with  the  prevalent 
solution  of  ethical  questions  as  with  the  principles 
intellectual,  social,  and  moral  of  the  Reformation, 
from  which  those  solutions  are  professedly  derived, 
Chapter  IX.  purposes  to  establish. 

These  three  chapters  have  then  been  added  to 
Mr.  Simpson's  work  by  the  present  writer,  who, 
however,  has  derived  valuable  assistance  from  Mr. 
Simpson's  MS. 

The  other  six  chapters  are  mainly  Mr.  Simpson's. 
Chapter  II.,  "  External  Evidence,"  is  drawn  chiefly 
from  the  RamUers  article  (1858),  save  the  addi- 
tions called  for  by  Mr.  Carter's  recent  book,  "  Shake- 
speare, Puritan  and  Protestant."  Chapter  IV.,  "  The 
English  Historical  Plays,"  is  recast  from  the  papers 
read  before  the  New  Shakespeare  Society,  1875. 
Chapter  V.,  ''  The  Sonnets,*'  is  a  summary  of  Mr. 
Simpson's  "Philosophy  of  the  Sonnets"  (1868),  a 
book  undeservedly  long  since  out  of  print.  Chapter 
VI,    "The    Love    Plays";     Chapter    VII.,    "The 


PREFACE  IX 

Tragedies";  Chapter  VIII.,  "The  Didactic  Plays," 
are  now  published  for  the  first  time,  with  such 
additions  or  modifications  as  seemed  necessary. 

To  preserve  the  unity  of  the  whole,  the  parts 
contributed  by  the  present  writer  to  the  work  are 
incorporated  with  Mr.  Simpson's;  but  with  the 
above  indication,  their  respective  portions  may  be 
sufficiently  recognised.  Any  salient  point  of  differ- 
ence in  their  opinions  is  duly  noted  when  it  occurs. 

The  evidence  adduced  from  Shakespeare's  writings 
in  the  following  pages,  which  might  be  indefinitely 
strengthened,  brings  out,  we  think,  two  points 
clearly.  First,  that  Shakespeare  was  not  on  the 
winning  side  in  his  day  in  politics  or  religion ; 
that  he  carefully  avoided  all  those  appeals  to 
popular  prejudice  about  monks  and  nuns,  popes 
and  cardinals,  which  form  the  farcical  element  of  so 
many  plays  of  his  time ;  nay,  more,  that  in  adapting 
old  plays  he  carefully  expunged  every  satire  of  the 
ancient  faith.  Secondly,  that  he  not  only  habitually 
extols  the  old  order  of  things,  but  that  he 
studiously  depreciates  the  new.  He  surveyed  his 
own  times  with  an  anguish,  he  says,  that  made 
him  "  cry  for  death "  (Sonnet  66).  He  speaks 
to  his  contemporaries  in  language  like  that  of 
John  Nichols — language  couched  on  the  lines, 
we  are  told,  of  the  Catholic  sermons  of  the  day. 
"  They  told  them  how  their  forefathers  lived, 
how  that  in  coming  to  churches  they  were  very 
diligent,  in  worshipping  of  images  they  were  devout, 
how  painful  in  visiting  holy  places,  how  liberal  with 
the  poor,  how  merciful  with  the  afflicted,  and  how 
careful  to  keep  God's  commandments.     Where  now 


X  PREFACE 

are  these  good  works  (say  they)  ?  What  is  become 
of  them  ?  Now  one  man  seeketh  to  beguile  another, 
one  man  speaketh  evil  of  another,  their  devotion  to 
the  Church  is  waxen  cold,  charity  towards  the  poor 
is  more  than  frozen."^  This  judgment  of  Nichols 
on  his  times  is,  we  believe,  also  that  of  Shakespeare. 
The  evidence  in  support  of  that  opinion  is  now 
submitted  to  the  judgment  of  our  readers. 

Grateful  thanks  are  due  to  the  Very  Rev.  F. 
Gasquet,  D.D.,  O.S.B.,  the  present  possessor  of  Mr. 
Simpson's  papers,  for  the  kind  permission  to  make 
free  use  of  these  documents;  to  Rev.  W.  Gildea, 
D.D.,  for  his  careful  correction  and  revision  of  the 
following  work ;  and  to  Brother  Vincent  Hayles,  of 
the  Oratory,  London,  for  many  details  obtained  by 
his  varied  research. 

^  "John  Nichols,  A  Declaration  of  the  Recantation  of."    London: 
Barker,  February  19,  1591.     Sig.  L.iiii. 


CONTENTS 


Chapter  I. 

Nut  in  Protestantism 

PAGE 

30 

Shakespeare  and  the  Reformation. 

Milton  and  Puritanism    . 

31 

PACK 

Keble  and  Anglicanism   . 

32 

Drama,  threefold  purpose  of 

I 

Protestant  Ritual    . 

33 

Its  philosophy  and  religion 

2 

Shakespeare  and  scholasticism 

34 

Catholicism  and  Protestantism 

3 

Preference  for  Aristotle   . 

35 

A  poet  and  his  Age 

4 

Shakespeare's  use  of  casuistry 

36 

Reformation  and  Renaissance 

5 

Equivocation   . 

37 

The  true  Renaissance  in  Eng 

Shakespeare  and  Architecture 

38 

Jand      .... 

6 

Ruined  shrines 

39 

Destructivenesa  of  the  Reform 

7 

Avarice  of  the  Reformers 

40 

Spenser's  testimony 

8 

Hidden  misery 

41 

Origin     of     the     Elizabethar 

Criminal  prosecutions 

42 

Drama 

9 

Absolutism 

43 

Shakespeare's  imagery     . 

lO 

Shakespeare's  hatred  of  Tudoi 

Catholic  characteristics    . 

II 

policy  .... 

44 

Two  views  of  Nature 

12 

Antagonism  to  his  times . 

45 

Protestantism  and  Nature 

13 

Love  of  feudalism    . 

46 

Catholicism  and  Nature  . 

14 

Use  of  Scripture 

47 

Nature's  moral  teaching  . 

15 

Satire  on  the  New  Gospel 

48 

Flowers  and  animals 

16 

"Personal  characteristics  . 

49 

Employment  of  myths     . 

17 

His  reserve 

50 

Nature's  witness  to  God 

18 

Detachment     . 

51 

Harmony  of  creation 

19 

World-weariness 

52 

Shakespeare  and  Montaigne 

20 

Use  of  comedy 

53 

Pagan  Love      . 

21 

Self-condemnation  . 

54 

True  Love 

22 

Secret  of  his  power  . 

55 

Teaching  of  the  Sonnets  . 

23 

And  the  Plays 

24 

Isabella   .... 

25 

Chapter  II. 

Dififerent  judgments  on  her 
"  Romeo  and  Juliet " 

26 
27 

External  Evidence. 

Passion  and  Love     . 

28 

State  of  religion  in  England    . 

56 

Sacrifice  .... 

29 

Visitation  Returns  . 

57 

xu 


CONTENTS 


Early  Christians  and  Catholics 

Religion  in  Warwickshire 

Guild  of  the  Holy  Cross  . 

Ordinances  of  the  Guild  . 

Hospitality  and  Education 

Religious  discord      . 

A  wedding  sermon  . 

The  poet's  parents  . 

John  Shakespeare  a  burgess    . 

Oath  of  Supremacy . 

Comparative  tolerance     . 

Religion  in  Stratford 

Destruction  of  vestments 

John  Shakespeare's  reverses    . 

Ejected  from  the  Corporation  . 

The  Recusancy-Returns  . 

The  penal  statute     . 

The  Warwickshire  Commission 

Its'  origin  and  purpose 

Search  for  Papists   . 

The  lists  of  Recusants      . 

John  Shakespeare's  excuse 

The  plea  of  debt      . 

List  of  conformed  persons 

Recusants     in     Shakespeare's 
plays 

Sham  conformity     . 

John    Shakespeare's    spiritual 
testament     .        .         .         . 

Similar  forms 

Internal  objections  . 

History  of  the  document 

Jordan's  alleged  forgery  . 

Proofs  of  its  genuineness 

William     Shakespeare's     bap- 
tism       

Marriage  and  burial 

Leicester  and  Arden 

Arden's  death  as  a  traitor 

The  deer-killing  incident 

Testimony  of  Davis 
The  Earl  of  Southampton 
First  successes 
The  Essex  Conspiracy     . 


PAGE 

59 
60 
61 
62 

^Z 
64 

65 
66 
67 
68 
69 
70 

71 
72 

n 
74 
75 
.  76 
•  77 
78,79 
.  80 
.  81 
.  82 

83 
84 

85 

86 

^7 
88 

89 
90 

91 
92 

93 
94 
95 
96 

97 
98 
99 


"  Richard  IL" 
Failure  of  the  conspiracy 
Accession  of  James 
I    Gunpowder  Plot 
Retirement  to  Stratford  . 
Jonson  and  Donne  .         . 
The  minister  at  *' New  Place" 
Protestant  ministers 
The  poet's  children 
Death  as  a  Papist    . 
Burial  in  the  chancel       .    no, 


Chapter  III. 

Contemporary  Dramatists, 

Religion  and  the  stage     . 
Controversial  dramas 
Greene,  Peele,  and  Marston 
Marlowe  .... 
Dekker  and  Webster 
"  King  John  " 
A  canon  of  criticism 
Bale's  **  King  John  " 
The  Royal  supremacy 
The  anti-Papal  speech 
Two  interpretations 
Elizabeth  and  Catholics  . 
Shakespeare  on  tyrannicide 
Pandulph 
Vows  and  oaths 
Shakespeare's  alterations 
The  excommunication 
Divine  justice 
Faulconbridge 
The  death  of  John  . 
Moral  of  the  play     . 
Historical  parallels  . 
Result  of  Pandulph's  action 
Falstaff    .... 
The  forged  play 
Oldcastle,  the  "Lollard  Mar 

tyr"     .... 
The  type  of  a  hypocrite   . 


100 
lOI 

102 
103 
104 

105 
106 
107 
108 
109 
III 


112 

"3 
114 

"5 
116 
117 
118 
119 
120 
121 
122 
123 
124 

125 
126 

127 
128 
129 
130 
131 
132 
133 
134 
135 
136 

137 
138 


CONTENTS 

XIU 

PAGE 

PAGE 

Falstaff's  use  of  Scripture    139,  140 

Sympathy  with  the  poor  . 

180 

His  attractiveness    . 

141 

Types  of  nobleness  . 

181 

A  compound  of  opposites 

142 

False  equality . 

182 

Dismissed  the  Court 

143 

The  Lollard  revolt  . 

183 

Falstaff's  death 

144 

Socialistic  doctrines 

184 

Point  of  the  satire  . 

145 

Cade's  communism  . 

185 

Lollard  morality 

186 

Norwich  registers     .         .187 

,188 

Chapter  IV. 

Precursors  of  the  Reformation 

189 

English  Historical  Flays. 

The  Church      . 
The  "Politicians"  . 

190 
191 

A  drama,  not  a  chronicle 

146 

Commodity 

192 

Idea  of  royalty 

147 

Liberty  of  conscience 

193 

The  anointing 

148 

Churchmen 

194 

The  "king's  evil"    .         .149 

,    150 

Cardinal  Beaufort    . 

195 

Forfeiture  of  the  crown   .   151 

,    152 

Cardinal  Wolsey 

196 

Bolingbroke     . 

153 

The  Church  and  scandals 

197 

Neither  Republican  nor  Abso- 

Campion on  Wolsey 

198 

lutist    .... 

154 

Wolsey 's  portrait     . 

199 

Miseries  of  royalty  . 

155 

Ctanmer  .... 

200 

The  nobility     . 

156 

♦'Henry  VII L,"  Act  V.   . 

.  201 

y  "Evils  of  rebellion      . 
Rebels  mistrusted    . 

157 

Evidently  an  addition 

202 

158 

An  anti- climax 

203 

Warnings  repeated  . 

159 

B.  Thomas  More 

204 

Condition  of  Catholics     . 

160 

The  minor  prelates  . 

205 

Foreign  intrigues     . 

161 

Archbishop  Scroop  . 

206 

Disaffected  nobles    . 

162 

The  northern  rising 

207 

,  Insurrection  and  religion 

163 

Archbishop  Chicheley 

208 

Archbish(»p  Scroop  . 

164 

Cessation  of  miracles        .  209 

,  210 

Henry  V. 

I6S 

The  Black  Art 

211 

The  Eve  of  Agincourt      . 

166 

The  trial  of  the  priests     . 

212 

Henry's  piety  . 

167 

The  Duchess  of  Gloucester 

213 

"Non  nobis". 

168 

An  ideal  prince 

169 

"Henry  VI." 

170 

Chaptbr  V. 

The  trilogy       . 

171 

T?ie  Sonnets. 

Decline  of  the  nobles 

172 

House  of  York 

173 

Their  importance     . 

.  214 

Rise  of  the  Commons 

'74 

Not  autobiographical 

215 

"  Henry  VIII."       . 

.  175 

Anachronisms 

216 

Promotion  of  upstarts 

176 

Numerous  sonneteers 

.  217 

The  new  nobility     . 

.  177 

Serious  and  frivolous 

218 

Hypocrisy  of  Henry  VIII. 

.  178 

Christian  doctrine  of  Love 

219 

The  people 

.  179 

Dante,  Boetius 

.  220 

XIV 


CONTENTS 


224, 


Spenser's  Hymns     . 

Love,  earthly  and  spiritual 

Theme  of  the  Sonnets 

Love  of  the  senses 

Imaginative  Love 

Its  three  stages 

Ideal  Love 

Spirit  and  flesh 

Spiritual  desolation 

Evils  of  his  times 

His  rivals 

Errors  rectified 

Self-accusation 

Final  oblation 

The  second  series. 

The  tyranny  of  sin 

Mutual  degradation 

Sparks  of  goodness 

Final  enslavement 

Agreement  of  Sonnets  and  Play 

Patronage  of  Southampton 

Lamentations  over  his  times 

The  Southampton  Library 


Chapter  VI. 


PAGE 

221 
222 
223 
225 
226 
227 
228 
229 
230 
231 
232 

234 
235 

False  Love  236 
237 


238 
239 
240 
241 
242 
243 
244 


The  Love  Plays. 

Origin  of  knowledge  .  .  245 
Scholastic  definitions  .  .  246 
Love  and  philosophy  .  .  247 
Love  and  religion  .  .  .  248 
"  Love's  Labour's  Lost "  .  .  249 
Comedy  of  the  play  .         .  250 

"  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  "  .  251 
Idolatry,  true  and  false  .  .252 
Love  and  friendship  .  .  253 
Fire  drives  out  fire  .  .  .  254 
"  Comedy  of  Errors  "  ,  .255 
The  Abbess  ....  256 
"Merry  Wives  of  Windsor"  .  257 
Clandestine  marriages  .  .  258 
'*  Midsummer-Night's  Dream  "  259 
Imaginative  Love    .         .       260-61 


PACK 

Benedictio  Thalami  .         .  .  262 

"  Romeo  and  Juliet "       .  .  263 

Friar  Laurence         .         .  .  264 

The  Friars  and  science     .  .  265 

The  Friar's  influence        .  .  266 

Consolations  of  philosophy  .  267 

Religious  allusions  .         .  .  268 

Catholic  phraseology         .  .  269 
Old  English  hymns  and  rhymes  270 

Evening  Mass .         .         .  .271 

Ancient  usage           .         .  .  272 

Liturgically  correct .         .  .  273 
"  All's  Well  that  Ends  Well " 


274. 275 

The  clown  and  the  countess 

.  276 

Belief  in  the  supernatural 

.  277 

"Taming  of  the  Shrew". 

.  278 

"  Much  Ado  about  Nothing  " 

.  279 

"  Twelfth  Night "   . 

.  280 

Malvolio  the  Puritan 

.  281 

The  clown 

.  282 

"  As  You  Like  It " . 

.  283 

Political  exiles 

.284 

Wisdom  in  fools 

.  28s 

A  Convertite    . 

.  286 

Adam  and  Corin 

.287 

Models  of  dignity    . 

.  288 

"Winter's  Tale"     . 

.  289 

The  solemn  sacrifice 

.  290 

"The  Tempest"      . 

.  291 

Dantesque  imagery. 

.  292 

Prayer  to  Our  Lady 

.  293 

"  Love's  Labour's  Won  "  . 

.  294 

Chapter  VIL 

Tragedies, 

«  Hamlet "  literature 

.  29s 

Hamlet's  reserve 

.296 

ThH  ghost 

•  297 

Moral  difficulties      . 

.  298 

A  perplexed  conscience    . 

.  299 

Vindictive  justice     . 

.  300 

CONTENTS 

XV 

PAGE 

PAGE 

The  final  resolve 

301 

The    stage    and   the    Govern- 

The sovereign  task  . 

302 

ment    .... 

340 

Ophelia    .... 

303 

"  Merchant  of  Venice  "    . 

341 

Hamlet's  treatment  of  her 

•    304 

Plea  for  toleration   . 

342 

Hamlet  and  Brutus 

305 

Effect  of  persecution 

343 

Judicial  execution    . 

306 

Ceremonial  religion . 

344 

Shakespeare's     view    of     con 

The  guiled  shore 

345 

spiracy 

307 

A  smiling  villain 

346 

Hamlet's  mother 

308 

The  rack .... 

347 

True  beauty  inward 

309 

Order  and  degree     . 

348 

Moral  of  "Hamlet" 

310 

•'  Measure  for  Measure  " . 

349 

Tragedy  and  suicide 

311 

James  I.  and  Catholics    .  350 

,  351 

Catholic  allusions     . 

312 

The  Duke  and  Lucio 

352 

The  last  sacraments 

313 

The  penal  code 

■  353 

Catholic  oaths . 

314 

Traitors  by  birth      . 

354 

Prayers  for  the  dead 

.    315 

External  acts  alone  crimes 

355 

Laertes  and  the  priest      . 

316 

Judges  should  be  holy     . 

356 

The  dirge  for  Ophelia      . 

317 

Absolution  before  execution 

357 

The  Phoenix  and  Turtle  . 

3«8 

St.  Bernard  and  the  criminal 

358 

Polonius  and  Burghiey    . 

319 

Votaress  of  St.  Clair 

359 

The   ghost   of   Lord   Stourtor 

The  doctrine  of  penance  . 

360 

320 

,321 

The   obligation   of    truth-tell- 

Father Cornelius     . 

322 

ing       .... 

361 

Hamlet  and  Essex  . 

323 

When  necessary 

362 

"Lear". 

324 

Father  Southwell's  defence 

363 

Lear's  absolutisn)     . 

325 

Political  deception  . 

364 

Religious  allusions  . 

326 

The  porter  in  '•  Macbeth  " 

365 

Sacrificial  conclusion 

327 

"Cymbeline" 

366 

Edgar's  devils . 

328 

The  Roman  question 

367 

Possessed  persons     . 

329 

Invasion  of  Britain . 

368 

Shakespeare's  belief  in  spirits 

330 

Adherence  to  custom 

369 

Angels     .... 

331 

Posthumus  and  penance  . 

370 

Devils      .... 

332 

Preparation  for  death 

371 

Belief  in  portents     . 

333 

Royal  severity 

372 

Omens      .... 

334 

"TroilusandCressida". 

373 

"Othello"        . 

335 

Theatrical  strife       . 

374 

Religious  allusions  .         .    336 

,337 

Religious  allusion     . 

375 

Thersites  a  preacher 

376 

The  service  and  the  God . 

377 

Chapter  VIII. 

A  state  of  grace 

378 

Didactic  Plays. 

Grace  and  perseverance   . 

379 

The  engrafted  word 

380 

Use  of  allegory 

338 

The  marriage  service 

381 

Political  allusions    . 

339 

Minor  religious  allusions . 

382 

XVI 


CONTENTS 


Chapter  IX. 

Shakespeare's  Ethics. 

Calvinism  and  fatalism    . 
Professor  Caird's  theory  . 
Human  responsibility 
Key  to  his  dramas  . 
Character  result  of  act     . 
Conscience 
"Macbeth"     . 
Consciousness  of  guilt 
Remorse  .... 
Milton  and  Shakespeare  . 
Tenderness  of  Shakespeare 
Moral  maxims 
Avoidance  of  occasions    . 
Religion  and  morality 
Eternal  punishment 
Need  of  grace  . 
Prayer     .... 
grayer  and  sacrifice 
Unanswered  prayer 


383 
384 
385 
386 
387 
388 
389 
390 
391 
392 
393 
394 
395 
396 
397 
398 
399 
400 
401 


Modem  morality 

PAGE 

402 

"  The  Manxman  "    . 

403 

"Othello" 

404 

Shakespeare's  heroines     . 

405 

Essentially  feminine 

406 

^Man's  rational  nature 

407 

Moral  dignity 

408 

Nature  and  Tennyson 

409 

Nature  and  Friar  Laurence 

410 

Modern  pessimism   . 

411 

Failure  of  all  things 

412 

Shakespeare's  belief  in  God 

413 

A  personal  Creator  . 

414 

Not  God's  spy 

415 

'  Devotion  to  Christ  . 

416 

A  Christian  knight . 

417 

Preparation  for  death 

418 

Ripeness  is  all 

419 

Pagan  death    . 

420 

-A  Catholic  death-bed       . 

421 

Cleansing  the  sick  soul    . 

422 

THE 

EELIGION  OF  SHAKESPEAEE. 

CHAPTER  I. 

SHAKESPEARE    AND   THE    REFORMATION. 

Dramatic  representation  had  with  Shakespeare  a 
threefold  end.  Artistically  its  aim  was,  he  says,  to 
reflect  the  image  of  creation,  to  "  hold  the  mirror  up 
to  nature."  Hence  it  was  essentially  objective.  His 
creations  were  not  arbitrarily  drawn  from  his  own 
phantasy,  but  from  existing  types.  Morally  his  in- 
tention was  to  exhibit  the  great  characteristics  of 
virtue  and  vice,  to  show  virtue  "her  own  image, 
scorn  her  own  feature,"  to  portray  what  was  essentially 
and  necessarily  good  or  evil  in  its  nature,  origin, 
development,  and  result.  Historically,  or  politically, 
its  purpose  was  to  set  forth  the  "very  form  or 
pressure  of  the  age  and  body  of  the  time."  And 
this  meant,  not  the  pedantic  reading  in  of  lessons 
from  parallel  passages  of  history,  nor  a  caricature 
of  passing  events,  drawn  by  the  pen  of  a  partisan, 

A 


1'       Sfli.KFiSt:»l$ARE    AND   THE   REFORMATION 

hnt'  feh!e\pras,Gjatati(>ii  of  the  great  questions  of  the 
age,  with  what  he  conceived  to  be  the  best  method 
of  their  solution. 

A  Drama,  then,  according  to  Shakespeare,  was  a 
moral  discourse,  and  an  historical  and  philosophical 
essay,  as  well  as  a  great  poem.  Hence,  the  ques- 
tion arises,  what  system  of  morals  or  philosophy 
is  apparent  in  Shakespeare's  plays  ?  And  since 
philosophy  and  religion  alike  profess  to  teach  the 
loiowledge  of  things  by  their  higher  causes,  and  the 
laws  and  principles  of  human  conduct,  we  are 
brought  at  once  to  the  question  of  his  creed,  the 
subject  discussed  in  the  following  pages. 

We  are  indeed  sometimes  told  that  such  a  dis- 
cussion is  useless,  that  the  poet's  writings  furnish 
no  trustworthy  data  on  this  matter,  that  the  scenes 
and  actions  of  his  drama  are  strictly  mundane, 
that  the  characters  work  out  their  development 
from  purely  natural  causes  and  motives.  Yet,  in 
spite  of  all  this,  the  question  is  ever  proposed 
and  answered  anew.  And  this  is  so,  because  the 
very  nature  of  the  poet's  writings  forbids  the  ex- 
clusion of  such  an  inquiry.  He  puts  before  us 
types  of  good  and  evil ;  what  is  his  attitude  towards 
them  ?  He  treats  of  human  nature ;  does  he  make 
man  a  free  and  responsible  agent,  or  the  mechanical 
slave  of  destiny  ?  He  constantly  speaks  of  God ; 
does  he  mean  a  personal  and  intelligent,  omniscient, 
omnipotent,  and  all -perfect  Creator,  or  a  mere 
anima  mundi,  coincident  with  the  phenomena  of 


CATHOLICISM   AND   PROTESTANTISM  3 

the  universe,  and  bound  by  its  laws  ?  He  is  the 
poet  of  love ;  is  his  theme  sensual  passion  or  the 
celestial  fire  ?  Lastly,  every  play  is  a  comment  on 
human  life;  where,  with  Shakespeare,  is  its  final 
purpose  found,  in  this  world,  or  the  next  ? 

These  questions  then  arise,  and  according  to  some 
writers,  English  and  German,  Shakespeare  in  setting 
forth  their  solution  proves  himself  the  representative 
of  the  positive  practical  view  of  life  inaugurated  by 
the  Reformation.  In  the  past,  Catholicism  with  its 
mysticism,  dogmatism,  and  asceticism,  taught  man 
that  he  was  a  stranger  in  this  world,  and  that  his 
true  home  and  patria  were  in  heaven.  According 
to  Protestantism,  on  the  other  hand,  the  spirit  of 
England  in  the  time  of  Elizabeth,  "  to  be  great,  to  do 
great  things  [here]  seemed  better  than  to  enter  the 
celestial  city,  and  forget  the  city  of  destruction ; 
better  than  to  receive  in  ecstasy  the  vision  of  a 
divine  mystery,  or  to  be  fed  with  miraculous  food."  ^ 
"  A  vigorous  mundane  vi^lity  thus  constitutes  the 
basis  of  the  Elizabethan  drama,"  ^  and  as  Shakespeare 
was  the  product  of  this  time,  he  was  necessarily  the 
exponent  of  its  spirit.* 

^  Dowden,  "Mind  and  Art  of  Shakespeare,"  i8  (1892). 

2  Ibid.,  p.  23. 

3  The  following  passage,  quoted  from  Professor  Dowden  with 
approval  from  Dr.  Edward  Vehse,  is  in  substance  his  own  view  of 
Shakespeare's  philosophy  :  "  Shakespeare  der  ungelehrte,  unstudirte 
Dichter  ist  der  erste  in  welchem  sich  der  moderne  Geist,  der  von 
der  Welt  weiss,  der  die  gesammte  Wirklichkeit  zu  begreifen  sucht, 
energisch  zusammenfasst.  Dieser  moderne  Geist  ist  der  gerade 
Gegensatz  des  mittelalterlichen  Geistes ;  er  erfasst  die  Welt  und 


4        SHAKESPEARE    AND   THE   REFORMATION 

Now  we  admit  that  the  poet  iisually  is,  in  a  sense, 
the  product  of  his  age,  and  speaks  with  its  voice, 
and  where  an  age  has  been  stamped  by  one  dominant 
idea,  the  poet  has  often  been  its  exponent  and 
paneg3Tist.  Thus  Homer  represents  the  Hellenic 
world  of  his  day;  he  adopts  its  crude  notions  of 
heaven  and  earth,  its  human  gods,  its  simple  customs ; 
while  its  unceasing  combats  and  its  heroes'  valiant 
deeds,  as  sung  by  him,  tend  to  glorify  the  Greek 
nation.  Virgil  discovers  in  the  mythological  descent 
of  the  Latin  race  a  prophecy  of  its  future  triumph, 
culminating  in  the  empire  of  Augustus  and  in  the 
inauguration  of  a  reign  of  peace.  Dante,  again,  gives 
us  in  the  Commedia  the  whole  culture  of  his  time. 
Its  philosophy,  astronomy,  arts,  politics,  history,  to- 
gether with  pagan  myths  and  mediaeval  legends,  all 
serve  to  illustrate  his  theme  and  are  brought  into 
unity  and  order  by  the  theology  of  the  Church.  He 
calls  his  work 

"  The  sacred  poem  that  hath  made 
Both  heaven  and  earth  copartners  in  the  toil."  ^ 

The  sixteenth  century  was,  however,  a  transitional 
period,  and  embraced  three  very  diverse  systems 
of  thought.  First  .came  CathoHcism.  This  included 
the  whole  Christian  tradition  oF  the  past  fifteen 
centuries,  the  learning  of  East  and  West,  the  philo- 

namentlich  die  innere  Welt  als  ein  Stiick  des  Himmels,  and  das 
Leben  als  einen  Theil  der  Ewigkeit." — Shakespeare  als  Protestant^ 
Poliiiker,  Pyschdog  und  Dichter,  i.  62  ;  "Mind  and  Art,"  13. 
1  Par.  XXV.  I. 


REFORMATION   AND   RENAISSANCE  5 

sophy  of  Greece,  as  found  in  the  writings  of  St. 
Augustine  and  the  Fathers,  of  St.  Thomas  and  the 
Scholastics,  and  also  the  Christian  Renaissance  with 
its  classic  scholarship,  its  critical  examination  of  texts 
and  codices,  and  its  revival  in  the  arts  and  architec- 
ture as  guided  and  sanctioned  by  the  Church.  Next 
came  the  heathenising  Renaissance.  Its  aim,  whether 
in  the  arts,  learning,  or  philosophy,  was  the  revival 
of  Paganism,  to  the  exclusion  of  Christianity,  and 
its  ultimate  end  was  solely  man's  temporal  pleasure 
and  satisfaction.  Thirdly  came  the  religious  revolt 
of  Luther,  Calvin,  and  Cranmer,  which  was  slightly 
differentiated  in  each  country  by  the  special  influ- 
ences determining  its  development.  The  latter  two 
systems,  though  united  in  their  rejection  of  the  Papal 
authority,  and  in  a  common  materialistic  tendency, 
were  by  no  means  in  complete  agreement ;  for  the 
dominant  party  in  the  reform  was  alike  opposed  to 
learning  or  art  of  any  kind,  and  it  is  strange  that 
the  Reformation  and  the  Renaissance  should  ever 
be  spoken  of  as  one  and  the  same  movement.^ 

When,  then,  and  where  do  we  find  the  true 
Renaissance  in  England  ?  The  sixty  years  following 
on  the  wars  of  the  Roses,  and  immediately  preceding 
the  Reformation;  i.e.  from  about  1470  to  the  fall 
of  Wolsey,  witnessed  ,the  new  birth  in  learning  and 
architecture.  The  chief  leaders  of  the  new  learn- 
ing were  William   Sellyng,   the  Benedictine  monk 

^  Of.  Professor  Dowden,  "Mind  and  Art  of  Shakespeare,"   11 
(1892).     Professor  Caird,  Contemporary  Review,  Ixx.  820. 


6        SHAKESPEARE    AND   THE   REFORMATION 

of  Canterbury,  the  pioneer  of  Greek  scholarship 
in  this  country,  Grocyn,  Linacre,  Dean  Colet,  Sir 
Thomas  More,  Archbishop  Warham,  and  Abbot  Bere 
of  Canterbury,  to  whom  Erasmus  sent  his  Greek 
Testament  for  revision.^ 

The  ecclesiastical  revival  was  manifested  in  the 
quantity  and  magnificence  of  the  work  done  in 
church-building,  restoration,  and  decoration.  Among 
the  more  notable  examples  may  be  mentioned 
King's  College,  Cambridge,  147 2-1  515  ;  Eton  Col- 
lege, founded  1 44 1,  completed  about  1482-3;  St. 
George's  Chapel,  Windsor,  1 475-1 52 1  ;  Henry  VII.'s 
Chapel,  Westminster,  1502-15 15,  both  the  work  of 
Sir  Reginald  Braye  ;  Bath  Abbey,  rebuilt  by  Bishop 
King,  1 495- 1 503,  and  Prior  Birde,  and  finished 
under  Prior  HoUoway  only  six  years  before  the 
surrender  of  the  Abbey  to  Henry  VIII.  in  1533; 
Corpus  Christi  College,  Oxford,  built  by  Bishop 
Fox  of  Winchester,  i  501-1528,  in  conjunction  with 
Prior  Silkstede ;  also  Fox's  beautiful  chantry  at  Win- 
chester, and  the  carved  wooden  pulpit  of  Silkstede ; 
Jesus  College,  Cambridge  ;  the  Collegiate  Church  at 
Westbury,  founded  by  John  Alcock,  Bishop  of  Ely, 
1 48 6- 1 500;  the  chantries  in  Ely  of  Bishop  Red- 
man, 1 501-1506,  and  of  Bishop  West,  15  15-1534; 
Brazenose  College,  Oxford,  founded  by  William 
Smith,  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  1496,  and  Sir  Richard 
Sutton;  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  founded  at 
the  advice  of  Bishop  Fisher,  by  Margaret  Beaufort, 

*  Gasquet,  "  The  Old  English  Bible  and  other  Essays,  "317  (1897). 


DESTRUCTIVENESS   OF   THE   REFORM  7 

Countess  of  Richmond,  who  also  built  a  school  and 
chantry  and  other  works  at  Wimborne  Minster; 
Christ  Church,  Oxford,  and  Ipswich  College,  founded 
by  Cardinal  Wolsey ;  St.  Asaph's  Cathedral,  rebuilt 
by  Bishop  Redman,  147 1- 147 5  ;  Bangor  Cathedral, 
rebuilt   by  Bishops   Dene   and    Skevington,    1496- 

1533. 

Such,  then,  is  a  brief  and  imperfect  outline  of 
the  work  effected  and  the  spirit  shown  by  the  true 
Renaissance  in  England.  That  it  was  Catholic  and 
Roman  is  seen  both  from  the  character  of  its  pro- 
moters and  the  nature  of  their  works.  Now  what 
was  the  action  of  the  Reformation  ?  Did  it  give  a 
fresh  stimulus  to  learning,  or  found  a  new  era  in 
religious  art?  The  colleges  and  schools  founded 
under  Elizabeth  and  Edward  VI.  are  sometimes 
quoted  as  marking  the  dawn  of  education  in  the 
country.  As  a  fact,  they  represent  a  miserably  in- 
adequate attempt  to  repair  the  losses  effected  by 
the  new  barbarism. 

The  Reformation  was  inaugurated  by  the  dis- 
solution of  the  monasteries,  the  dispersion  of  their 
libraries  with  their  unique  treasures  of  codices  and 
manuscripts,  and  completed  with  the  spoliation  of 
the  churches  and  the  destruction  of  the  highest  works 
of  art  in  the  kingdom.  The  mural  decorations  of 
cathedral,  church,  and  shrine,  some  of  which,  as 
the  retable  of  Westminster  Abbey,  were  of  very 
high  excellence,  and  only  just  completed,  were  all 
obHterated  by  whitewash  or  distemper.     The  wood- 


8        SHAKESPEAEE   AND   THE   REFOBMATION 

carving,  the  rood-screen  with  its  "goodly  images," 
the  carved  stalls,  canopies,  and  magnificent  embossed 
roofs,  perished  under  the  hands  of  the  reforming 
iconoclasts.  The  metal-work,  the  silver  and  gilt 
shrines,  images,  reliquaries,  lamps,  crucifixes,  candle- 
sticks, chaHces,  patens,  monstrances,  pyxes,  proces- 
sional and  pastoral  staves,  spoons,  cruets,  ewers, 
basins,  the  jewelled  clasps  for  missals,  antiphonaries, 
and  copes,  all  these  works  of  an  art  which,  in  Italy, 
was  stimulating  the  genius  of  a  Cellini,  in  England 
passed  into  the  royal  melting-pot,  to  the  value  of 
some  ;^85o,ooo  of  present  money,  or  nearly  a 
million  sterHng.^  The  painting  of  the  needle  shared 
a  similar  fate.  The  richly  embroidered  chasubles, 
copes,  dalmatics,  maniples,  stoles,  were  consumed  in 
huge  bonfires,  or  became  furniture  in  the  palaces  of 
the  king  and  the  new  nobles,  and  the  art  of  em- 
broidery, as  of  metal-work,  for  religious  purposes 
ceased  to  be. 

That  this  account  is  not  exaggerated  may  be  seen 
in  Spenser.  As  a  courtier  he  extolled  Elizabeth 
and  all  her  works,  and  vilified  grossly  the  ancient 
faith.  But  as  a  poet  and  philosopher  he  was  wholly 
opposed  to  the  new  order  of  things.  In  the  "  Tears 
of  the  Muses,"  while  paying,  of  course,  the  usual  com- 
pliment to  the  "  divine  Eliza,"  he  deplores  the  degra- 
dation of  the  public  taste,  the  contempt  for  learning, 
the  universal  sway  of  "  ugly  barbarism  "  and  brutish 

*  Gasquet,  "  Henry  VIII.  and  the  Monasteries,"  vol.  ii.  3rd  ed., 
417. 


THE   ELIZABETHAN   DRAMA  9 

ignorance,  of  "  scoffing  scurrility  and  scornful  folly." 
Spenser  was  in  truth  very  far  from  being  the  Puritan 
that  Mr.  Carter  would  make  him.^  His  whole 
theory  of  sacrificial  love  is,  as  we  shall  see,  directly 
opposed  to  the  school  of  Geneva.  In  the  "  Faerie 
Queene  "  itself  the  Red- Cross  Knight  is  purified  on 
the  lines  of  Catholic  asceticism,  and  under  the 
character  of  the  "  Blatant  Beast,"  Puritanism  with 
its  destroying  hand  and  railing  bitter  tongue,  is  thus 
described : — 

"  From  thence  into  the  sacred  church  he  broke 
And  robbed  the  chancel,  and  the  desks  downthrow 
And  altar  fouled  and  blasphemy  spoke, 
And  the  images  for  all  their  godly  hue 
Did  cast  to  ground,  whilst  none  there  was  to  rue 
So  all  confounded  and  disordered  there." 

— Book  vi. 

Was,  then,  a  movement  so  levelling  and  destructive 
likely  to  produce  the  dramatic  and  poetic  outburst 
of  the  Shakespearian  age  ?  That  movement,  with 
its  brief  duration  of  some  fifty  years,  came  indeed 
in  spite  of  the  Reformation,  not  because  of  it.  No 
doubt  the  circumstances  of  the  time,  the  wealth  and 
ease  of  the  court  and  its  supporters,  called  for  such 
entertainment  as  the  drama  supplied.  But  the  plots 
as  well  as  the  style  and  art  of  the  great  English  poets 
and  dramatists  came,  not  from  Germany  or  Switzer- 
land, but  from  Italy.  Dante,  Ariosto,  Petrarch,  not 
Luther  or  Calvin,  were  the  masters  of  Wyatt  and 

^  "Shakespeare,  Puritan  and  Recusant,"  79. 


10     SHAKESPEARE   AND   THE   REFORMATION 

Surrey  and  of  their  disciples.  An  impartial  exam- 
ination of  Shakespeare's  writings  will,  we  believe, 
make  clear  that  Shakespeare  was  no  "  product  of 
the  Reformation."^ 

First,  consider  one  of  his  chief  poetic  characteristics, 
his  imagery.  It  is  only  by  s3niibols  that  the  poet's 
theme,  the  spiritual,  the  ideal,  the  supersensuous, 
finds  expression;  and  of  all  poets,  Shakespeare  is 
perhaps  the  richest  in  his  creative  power.  He  has 
a  figure,  a  metaphor  for  every  thought ;  his  images 
seem  to  come  spontaneously  and  to  express  exactly 
their  maker's  idea.  He  speaks  himself  as  if  these 
operations  of  his  phantasy  were  produced  in  a  kind 
of  ecstasy. 

"  The  poet's  eye,  in  a  fine  phrenzy  rolling, 
Doth  glance  from  heaven  to  earth,  from  earth  to  heaven  ; 
And  as  imagination  bodies  forth 
The  form  of  things  unknown,  the  poet's  pen 
Turns  them  to  shape,  and  gives  to  airy  nothings 
A  local  habitation  and  a  name." 

— Midsummer -NighVs  Dreamy  v.  i . 

Now,  much  of  his  imagery  is  drawn  from  religious 
subjects ;  of  what  kind,  then,  is  it  ?  He  was  per- 
fectly free  to  choose  either  the  new  creed  or  the 
old,  for  he  never  allowed  himself  to  be  hampered 
by  dramatic  conventionalities,  and  he  frequently 
commits  glaring  anachronisms.    We  find,  then,  that 

^  "  And  remark  here  as  rather  curious,  that  Middle  Age  Catholi- 
cism was  abolished  as  far  as  Acts  of  Parliament  could  abolish  it, 
before  Shakespeare,  the  noblest  product  of  it,  made  his  appear- 
"-nce." — Carlyle,  Heroes  and  Hero  Worship. 


CATHOLIC   IMAGERY  II 

the  object  of  his  predilection  is  the  ancient  faith, 
and  he  introduces  the  Church  of  Rome,  her  minis- 
ters and  doctrines  and  rites,  not,  after  the  manner  of 
Spenser,  as  a  type  of  falsehood  and  corruption,  nor 
like  Marlowe  and  Greene,  as  the  symbol  of  exploded 
superstition,  but  as  the  natural  representative  of 
things  high,  pure,  and  true,  and  therefore  to  be  treated 
with  reverence  and  respect.  Take,  for  example,  his 
illustration,  drawn  from  vestments,  of  how  royalty 
enhances  its  dignity  by  habitual  seclusion ;  and 
remember  that,  when  he  wrote,  vestments  were 
being  publicly  burnt,  as  has  been  said,  for  popish, 
massing,  idolatrous  stuff. 

"  Thus  did  I  keep  my  person  fresh  and  new, 
My  presence  like  a  robe  pontifical, 
Ne'er  seen  but  wondered  at ;  and  so  my  state, 
Seldom  but  sumptuous,  showed  like  a  feast, 
And  won  by  rareness  such  solemnity." 

— I  Henry  IV.,  iii.  2. 

The  same  idea  is  expressed  in  the  Sonnets,  where 
he  compares,  and  in  the  same  religious  tone,  the 
visits  of  his  beloved  in  their  rareness  and  worth  to 
great  feasts,  precious  pearls,  and  costly  robes : — 

"  Therefore  are  Feasts  so  solemn  and  so  rare 
Since  seldom  coming  in  the  long  year  set, 
Like  stones  of  worth  they  thinly  placed  are, 
Or  captain-jewels  in  the  carcanet. 
So  is  the  time  that  keeps  you  as  my  chest, 
Or  as  the  wardrobe  which  the  robe  does  hide, 
To  make  some  special  instant  special  blest 
By  new  unfolding  his  imprisoned  pride." 

— Sonnet  cii. 


12      SHAKESPEARE    AND   THE   REFORMATION 

The  readiness  and  aptitude  with  which  he  avails 
himself  of  Catholic  imagery  are  manifested  again 
and  again.  He  puts  before  us  temples,  altars, 
priests,  friars,  nims,  the  mass,  sacrifices,  patens  of 
gold,  chalices,  incense,  relics,  holy  crosses,  the  invo- 
cation of  saints  and  angels,  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
the  sacraments  of  baptism,  penance,  holy  eucharist, 
extreme  unction,  details  of  the  ritual,  as  for  instance 
the  Benedictio  Thalami.  All  these  and  many  other 
Catholic  rites  and  usages  are  introduced  with  a 
delicacy  and  fitness  possible  only  for  a  mind  habi- 
tuated to  the  Church's  tone  of  thought.  Nay 
more,  when  he  is  recasting  an  anti-Catholic  play, 
as  in  the  case  of  "  King  John,"  he  is  careful  to  ex- 
punge the  ribald  stories  against  Nuns  and  Friars, 
notwithstanding  the  popularity  of  such  tales  with 
the  audiences  of  the  time.  He  drew  indeed  from 
the  new  creed  his  FalstafF,  Malvolio,  and  Holofernes, 
types  of  the  hypocrite,  the  canting  knave,  the 
pedant,  but  turned  to  the  ancient  faith  for  his 
images  of  what  was  noble  and  sacred. 

The  other  chief  source  of  Shakespeare's  imagery 
was  Nature  itself.  There  are,  broadly  speaking 
two  views  of  Nature — the  Catholic,  the  Protestant. 
What  may  be  the  Protestant  view  at  the  present 
day  is  perhaps  difficult  to  determine,  for  Protes- 
tantism is  fluctuating  and  manifold.  But  the  Pro- 
testantism of  Shakespeare's  day  was  clearly  defined. 
Nature  was  a  synonym  for  discord.  Man  through 
his   fall  was    in  essential   discord  with   God;    the 


PROTESTANTISM    AND   NATURE  1 3 

lower  world  was  in  discord  with  man.  The  Re- 
demption had  brought  no  true  healing  of  this 
rupture ;  for  salvation  was  wrought,  not  by  internal 
restoration,  but  by  mere  outward  acceptance.  Saint 
and  sinner  were  intrinsically  alike.  In  saint  as  in 
sinner  there  was,  to  use  the  words  of  a  reformed 
confession  of  faith,  "  an  intimate,  profound,  inscru- 
table, and  irreparable  corruption  of  the  entire  nature, 
and  of  all  the  powers,  especially  of  the  superior  and 
principal  powers  of  the  soul."  ^  The  saint,  a  sinner 
in  his  nature  and  his  powers,  is  a  sinner  also  in 
all  his  works,  for  the  products  of  corruption  must 
be  themselves  corrupt.  His  corruption  is  subjec- 
tive and  intrinsic ;  his  justification  is  objective  and 
extrinsic.  He  has  apprehended  by  faith  the  merits 
of  Christ,  and  God  no  longer  imputes  the  sin  that 
is  truly  there.  Nor  will  God  impute  to  him -the 
sinfulness  of  his  works,  so  long  as  by  faith  he 
continues  to  apprehend  the  saving  merits  of  Christ. 
But  the  essential  corruption  of  his  nature  always 
remains.  The  lower  world  is  as  divorced  from 
man  as  man  has  become  divorced  from  God.  The 
destiny  of  inferior  creatures  had  been  a  higher  one 
than  that  of  ministering  to  the  earthly  needs  of 
man.  Their  office  had  been  to  speak  to  him  of 
God,  to  inspire  him  with  the  love  of  God,  to  be 
as  the  steps  of  a  ladder  which  leads  the  soul  to 

*  Solida  Declaratio,  i.  31.  The  Solida  Declaratio  drawn  up  (1577) 
after  Luther's  death  was  the  authorised  Lutheran  Confession  of 
Faith. 


14     SHAKESPEAKE    AND   THE   REFORMATION 

God.  But  their  power  of  appeal  has  vanished. 
The  mind  of  man  has  grown  darkened;  he  cannot 
see  in  creatures  the  beauty  of  Him  that  made 
them.  The  will  of  man  has  grown  hardened;  he 
can  no  longer  see  in  creatures  the  bounty  and 
goodness  of  the  Lord.  Creatures  can  teach  man 
no  moral  lesson,  for  man  is  no  longer  a  moral  being. 
His  freedom  of  will  has  left  him ;  his  instincts  are 
all  towards  vice.  Nature  can  only  find  food  for  his 
passions  and  minister  to  the  vices  of  his  fallen  estate. 

Catholicism,  on  the  other  hand,  presents  a  pic- 
ture the  reverse  of  this.  Man  has  indeed  forfeited 
his  supernatural  estate  by  sin;  but  his  nature 
though  fallen  remains  unchanged ;  and  every  crea- 
ture by  nature  is  good,  and  by  grace  man  can  and 
does  recover  his  supernatural  condition.  From  God 
all  things  proceed,  and  to  Him  they  return  by 
obedience  to  His  law  and  by  the  mutual  offices 
they  respectively  discharge.  No  creature  is  a  sepa- 
rate or  independent  unit,  but  each  is  in  a  necessary 
relation  and  correspondence  with  its  fellows.  From 
the  lowest  to  the  highest,  all  things  in  their  genera, 
classes,  kingdoms  are  in  an  ascending  scale,  in 
which  the  lower  order  ministers  to  the  higher,  and 
is  ennobled  thereby. 

From  which  point  of  view  does  Shakespeare  re- 
gard nature  ?  He  dwells  at  times  on  its  fairness. 
He  can  speak  of  the  glorious  mom — 

"  Kissing  with  golden  face  the  meadow  green, 
Bathing  the  pale  stream  with  heavenly  alchemy." 


nature's  moral  teaching  15 

To  him  nature  is  no  accursed  thing.  It  is  a  scene 
of  wondrous  beauty.  But  he  valued  nature  chiefly 
as  a  storehouse  whence  he  drew  moral  lessons.  To 
Shakespeare  nature  was  the  mirror  of  the  human 
soul  with  its  joys  and  sorrows,  and  its  virtues  and 
vices.  "Each  drama,"  says  Heine,^  "has  its  own 
special  elements,  its  definite  season,  with  all  its 
characteristics.  Heaven  and  earth  bear  as  marked 
a  physiognomy  as  the  personages  of  the  play." 
"  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  with  its  theme  of  passionate 
love,  speaks  of  summer  heat  and  beauty  and  fra- 
grance. Lear's  wreck,  political  and  physical,  is 
attested  by  the  thunder  and  drenching  storm. 
Macbeth's  crime  is  conceived  on  the  blasted  heath 
and  in  the  witches'  cave.  Flowers  and  plants,  again, 
each  have  their  significance.  The  rose,  above  all, 
as  with  the  classics  and  with  Dante,  is  the  chief 
symbol  of  innocence,  purity,  and  love.  Of  the 
murdered  princes  Forrest  says — 

"  Their  lips  were  four  red  roses  on  a  stalk, 
Which  in  their  summer  beauty  kissed  each  other." 

— Richard  Ill.y  iv.  3. 

Percy  compares  Richard  II.  as  the  sweet  rose  to 
the  thorn  Buckingham.  Hamlet  says  his  mother's 
second  marriage  was  such  an  act 

"  That  blurs  the  grace  and  blush  of  modesty, 
Calls  virtue  hypocrite,  takes  off  the  rose 
From  the  fair  forehead  of  innocent  love, 
And  sets  a  blister  there." — Hamlet,  iii.  4. 


Works,  iii.  312,  ed.  Rotterdam  (1895). 


1 6     SHAKESPEARE    AND   THE   REFORMATION 

The  whole  story  of  Viola's  secret  attachment  is  thus 

related : — 

"  She  never  told  her  love, 
But  let  concealment,  like  a  worm  i'  the  bud, 
Feed  on  her  damask  cheek." — Twelfth  Night,  ii.  4. 

Lilies,  again,  are  the  emblems  of  chastity,  but 

"  Lilies  that  fester  smell  far  worse  than  weeds." 

— Sonnet  xciv. 

Ophelia  in  "Hamlet"  and  Perdita  in  "Winter's  Tale" 
teach  many  a  lesson  on  the  symbolism  of  flowers ; 
and  the  gardener  in  "Richard  II."  finds  in  the 
neglected  garden  the  image  of  the  king's  misrule : — 

"  The  whole  land 
Is  full  of  weeds,  her  fairest  flowers  choked  up. 
Her  fruit  trees  all  unpruned,  her  hedges  mixed. 
Her  knots  disordered,  and  her  wholesome  herbs 
Swarming  with  caterpillars." — Richard  II. ,  iii.  4. 

The  animal  world  supplies  images  mostly  of  the 
evil  passions  of  man.  Shylock  has  a  "  tiger's  heart," 
Goneril,  "bearish  fangs."  Edgar  describes  himself 
as  a  "hog  in  sloth,  a  fox  in  stealth,  a  wolf  in 
greediness,  a  dog  in  madness,  a  lion  in  prey.'* 
Richard  III.  is  a  bloody  and  usurping  boar,  a  foul 
swine.  On  the  other  hand,  the  lark  in  its  rising 
typifies  prayer;  the  swallow  in  its  swiftness,  hope 
piercing  every  obstacle ;  the  eagle,  strength,  majesty, 
loyalty. 

Nature,  then,  with  Shakespeare  furnishes  a  theme, 
not  for  mere  pastoral  melodies  or  idyllic  strains, 
though  of  these  we  have  some  exquisite  examples, 


EMPLOYMENT    OF   MYTHS  1/ 

but  for  deep  moral  lessons ;  and  this  parable  teach- 
ing of  the  visible  world  is  rendered  more  forcible 
and  more  graphic  by  being  frequently  presented 
through  the  medium  of  classic  myths  and  deities. 
For  with  Shakespeare,  as  with  Dante,  the  pagan 
fable  is  made  the  preacher  of  Christian  truth.  One 
of  his  most  Christian  and  Catholic  dramas  in  its 
moral  teaching  is  perhaps  "  The  Tempest "  ;  and  its 
lessons  are  inculcated  by  the  aid  of  witches  and 
fairies ;  of  Isis,  Ceres,  and  Juno ;  of  nymphs  and 
spirits,  the  demi- puppets  evoked  by  Prospero's  staff; 
nor  without  them  would  the  tale  or  moral  ever 
have  had  the  same  dramatic  force.-^  The  same  may 
be  said  of  "  Cymbeline,"  of  "  Midsummer  -  Night's 
Dream,"  and  many  others,  where  the  Christian  idea 
is  conveyed  through  a  heathen  rite  or  myth.  To 
take  what  was  true  in  Paganism,  while  rejecting 
what  was  false,  had  been  the  work  of  the  Christian 
poets  and  philosophers  from  the  first.  But  what 
we  wish  to  draw  special  attention  to  is  that  such  a 
philosophy  of  nature,  which  finds 

"  Tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running  brooks, 
Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  everything  " 

— As  You  Like  It,  ii.  i, 

is  in  its  very  essence  opposed  to  the  fundamental 
doctrine  of  the  Reformation,  as  we  have  already 
shown. 

^  Ariel  imprisoned  in  the  cloven  pine  and  Caliban  immersed  in 
the  foul  lake  are  distinctly  Dantesque  images.  Cf.  Inferno,  cantos 
vii.  and  viii. 

B 


1 8     SHAKESPEAKE   AND   THE   REFOKMATION 

But  more.  In  the  doctrine  of  the  Cathohc  Church 
not  only  does  Nature  in  its  individual  and  several 
parts  inculcate  and  illustrate  moral  lessons,  but 
Nature  in  its  entirety  is  like  a  magnificent  sym- 
phony proclaiming  the  praises  of  God.  Thus 
creation  becomes  a  many-tongued  choir,  and  the 
elements,  plants,  animals,  man  himself,  intone  to- 
gether, in  union  with  the  angels,  the  praises  of  their 
Creator.  In  perhaps  the  oldest  inspired  poem  we 
read  of  the  music  of  the  spheres,  "  The  stars  praising 
me  together,  the  sons  of  God  making  glad  melody  " 
(Job  xxviii.  7).  The  same  theme  repeats  itself  in 
the  Psalms,  and  is  the  keynote  of  the  Paradiso — 

"  When  as  the  wheel  which  thou  dost  ever  guide, 
Desired  Spirit !  with  its  harmony- 
Tempered  of  thee  and  measured,  charmed  mine  ear, 
Then  seemed  to  me  so  much  of  heaven  to  blaze 
With  the  sun's  flame,  that  rain  or  flood  ne'er  made 
A  lake  so  broad.    The  newness  of  the  sound, 
And  that  great  light,  inflamed  me  with  desire, 
Keener  than  e'er  was  felt,  to  know  their  cause." 

— Paradiso f  i.  74-81. 

Here,  then,  it  is  light,  as  the  instrument  of  God's 
power  and  the  witness  of  His  presence,  which  both 
produces  the  motion  and  evokes  the  harmony  of 
the  spheres,  and  this  light  and  motion  are  love — 
Luce  intelUttual  pien  cCamore.  And  so  in  Shake- 
speare. In  the  sweetness  of  the  moonlight  and  the 
effulgence  of  the  stars  the  music  of  the  heavens 
becomes  audible,  and  the  smallest  orb  joins  in  alter- 


HARMONY   OF   CREATION  1 9 

nate  choirs  with  the  angels,  and  each  immortal  soul 

gives  forth  its  own  harmony,  inspired  and  moved  by 

love. 

"  How  sweet  the  moonlight  sleeps  upon  this  bank  I 
Here  will  we  sit,  and  let  the  sounds  of  music 
Creep  in  our  ears  :  soft  stillness  and  the  night 
Become  the  touches  of  sweet  harmony. 
Sit,  Jessica.     Look  how  the  floor  of  heaven 
Is  thick  inlaid  with  patines  of  bright  gold  ! 
There's  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  behold'st 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Stil  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubims  : 
Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls  ; 
But  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  it  in,  we  cannot  hear  it." 

— Merchant  of  Venice,  v.  i. 

Now  it  might  have  been  thought  that  such  a 
conception  of  creation  and  of  men  and  their  rela- 
tion to  God  shows  clearly  the  Catholic  character 
of  Shakespeare's  cosmology.  But  no.  Though  the 
poet's  idea  is  found  in  the  revealed  Word,  in  the 
works  of  Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  in  St.  Augustine, 
in  St.  Thomas,  and  Dante,  it  is  derived  from  none 
of  these  sources,  but,  according  to  Professor  Elze,^ 
from  Montaigne.  Now  Montaigne  nowhere  teaches 
the  existence  of  unity,  order,  or  harmony  in  crea- 
tion. On  the  contrary,  he  held  that  all  knowledge, 
whether  acquired  by  sense  or  reason,  was  necessarily 
uncertain ;  and  of  the  music  of  the  spheres  he  inci- 
dentally observes,  that  it  is  inaudible  to  us,  because 
our  hearing  is  so  dulled  by  the  ceaseless  clamour  of 

^  I.  22  ;  Hense,  "  Shakespeare,"  361. 


20     SHAKESPEAEE    AND    THE   REFOEMATION 

created  things.^  Here,  then,  the  unbroken  and  uni- 
versal tradition  of  some  fifteen  centuries  is  to  be 
ignored  in  favour  of  the  shallow  casual  remark  of 
this  French  sceptical  essayist.  But  Shakespeare's 
teaching  finds  too  commonly  a  spurious  origin. 
Does  Hamlet  say  that  there  is  nothing  good  or  evil 
(in  the  physical  order),  but  thinking  makes  it  so  ?  ^ 
This  idea  of  his  is  borrowed  from  the  pantheist, 
Giordano  Bruno,  who  was  in  London  from  1583 
to  1586,  just  after  Shakespeare's  arrival  there,  and 
who  denied  the  existence  (in  the  moral  order)  of 
either    absolute    good    or    evil.^      Again,  Hamlet's 

^  "We  need  not  go  seek  what  our  neighbours  report  of  the 
cataracts  of  the  Nile,  and  what  Philosophers  deem  of  the 
Celestial  music,  which  is  that  the  bodies  of  its  circles  being  solid, 
smooth,  and  in  their  roving  motion  touching  and  rubbing  against 
one  another,  must  of  necessity  produce  a  wonderful  harmony ;  by 
the  changes  and  entercaprings  of  which,  the  revolutions,  motions, 
cadences,  and  carols  of  the  asters  and  planets  are  caused  and 
transported.  But  that  universally  the  hearing  and  senses  of  these 
old  worlds'  creatures,  dizzied  and  lulled  asleep,  as  those  of  the 
Egyptians  are,  by  the  continuation  of  that  sound,  how  loud  and 
great  soever  it  be,  cannot  sensibly  perceive  or  distinguish  the 
same." — Montaigne  s  Essays  (Florio's  trans.),  i.  22,  ed.  1892,  modern- 
ised spelling. 

It  is  only  fair  to  Montaigne  to  state,  that  though  philosophically 
a  sceptic  in  matters  of  belief,  he  professed  entire  and  loyal  allegi- 
ance to  the  Church  of  Rome.  His  position  was  that  of  an  extreme 
Traditionalist,  and  with  the  strange  want  of  logic  that  is  char- 
acteristic of  the  Traditionalist  position  he  held  that  Faith  is  best 
honoured  by  divorcing  it  from  reason.  In  his  essay  "  On  Prayer  " 
he  submits  "his  rhapsodies,"  as  he  calls  his  writings,  to  the 
judgment  of  the  Church,  and  he  died,  having  received  the  last 
sacraments. 

2  B.  Thomas  More  expresses  the  same  thought  in  "  Dialogues  of 
Comfort," 

3  Tschifschwiz,  Shakespeare- Forschungen  (1568),  i.  65. 


PAGAN   LOVE  21 

praise  of  Horatio's  equanimity,  which  "  takes  buffets 
and  reward  with  equal  thanks,"  proves  Shakespeare 
a  Stoic.  The  poet's  desire  for  the  immortaUty  of 
his  verse  in  praise  of  his  beloved,  indicates  his  dis- 
belief in  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  His  phrase, 
"  the  prophetic  soul  of  the  world,"  proves  his  pan- 
theism ;  and  the  duty  of  meeting  necessities  as 
necessities  clearly  shows  his  determinism. 

With  these  various  points  in  his  philosophy  we 
shall  deal  later  as  occasion  arises.  We  now  proceed 
to  take  the  one  essential  point  of  his  philosophy, 
namely,  his  teaching  on  love.  It  will  mark  for  us 
the  distinction  between  the  true  and  false  Renais- 
sance already  spoken  of;  for  the  Renaissance  poets 
were  pagan  or  Christian  according  to  their  teaching 
on  this  theme.  The  object  of  the  pagan  love  was 
the  satisfaction  of  the  senses,  the  pleasure  that  could 
be  derived  here  and  now  at  any  cost.  Lorenzo  Valla, 
the  leader  of  the  heathen  Renaissance,  in  his  "Gospel 
of  Pleasure,"  made  sensuality  a  virtue,  because  it  was 
natural.^  Beccadelli  in  his  Epigrams,^  which  are  of 
singular  poetic  grace,  is  even  more  materialistic,  and 
the  majority  of  Shakespeare's  contemporaries  fol- 
lowed this  teaching.  "  If  I  may  have  my  desire 
while  I  live,  I  am  satisfied ;  let  me  shift  after  death 
as  I  may,"  writes  Greene  in  his  "  Groatsworth  of 
Wit."  And  though  he  confessed  his  vices  with  tears, 
his  life  and  his  poetry  were  based  on  these  lines. 

^  De  VoLuptate  et  Vero  bono,  Libri  iii. 

'  Hermaphroditus,  v. ;  Pastor,  "History  of  the  Popes,"  vol.  i.  13. 


22      SHAKESPEARE    AND   THE   REFORMATION 

The  triumph  of  sensualism,  the  glorification  of 
beauty,  the  gratification  of  the  passions,  with  the 
consequent  profligacy,  crime,  treachery,  cruelty, 
poisoning,  and  murder  —  these  form  the  basis  of 
Marlowe's  "Jew  of  Malta,"  Webster's  "Duchess  of 
Malfi,"  of  his  "White  Devil,"  of  Ford's  "'Tis  Pity," 
among  many  others.  A  picture  of  this  school  is  seen 
in  Jonson's  "  Every  Man  out  of  His  Humour  " ;  and 
it  reads  like  a  chapter  from  Symond's  "  Renaissance 
in  Italy."  But  there  was  another  school  of  Eng- 
lish dramatists,  including  Surrey,  Sidney,  Spenser, 
whose  theme  indeed  was  love,  but  the  object  of  love 
with  them  was  not  the  outward  fairness  of  form 
or  face,  but  the  inward  beauty  of  truth  and  holi- 
ness, as  sung  by  Catholic  poets  in  all  time.  Thus 
Sidney  writes : — 

"  Leave  me,  0  love,  which  reacheth  but  to  dust, 
And  thou,  my  mind,  aspire  to  higher  things  ; 
Grow  rich  in  that  which  never  taketh  rust ; 
Whatever  fades  but  fading  pleasure  brings. 
Oh,  take  fast  hold,  let  that  light  be  thy  guide 
In  this  small  course  which  birth  draws  out  of  death." 

— Last  Sonnet. 

Thus  Spenser : — 

"  For  love  is  Lord  of  truth  and  loyalty, 
Lifting  himself  out  of  the  lowly  dust 
On  golden  plumes  up  to  the  purest  sky, 
Above  the  reach  of  loathly  sinful  lust, 
Whose  base  affect,  through  cowardly  distrust 
Of  his  weak  wings,  dare  not  to  heaven  fly, 
But  like  a  moldwark  in  the  earth  doth  lie." 

— Hymn  in  Honour  of  Love^  176-182. 


TEACHING    OF   THE    SONNETS  23 

If  we  find  vestiges  of  Catholic  teaching  on  this 
subject  in  Sidney  and  Spenser,  we  find  the  doc- 
trine fully  worked  out  in  Shakespeare.  We  do 
not  include  the  poems  "  Venus  and  Adonis "  and 
"  Lucrece."  It  is  true  that  the  poet  deals  with  the 
subject  as  a  spectator,  not  as  an  actor,  and  teaches 
incidentally  some  deep  moral  truths ;  yet  his  theme 
in  these  poems  and  his  descriptions  are  of  "  loathly 
sinful  lust,"  not  of  pure  Christian  love.  Like 
Chaucer,  hke  Spenser,  Shakespeare  had  reason  for 
bewailing  these,  the  compositions  of  his  youth.  It 
is  far  otherwise  with  the  work  of  his  life,  the  sonnets 
and  the  plays. 

In  the  sonnets  which,  according  to  Simpson, 
embody  the  poet's  philosophy  of  love  cast  in  alle- 
gorical form,  the  battle  of  life,  as  experienced  in  his 
own  soul,  is  fought  between  true  and  intellectual 
and  false  and  sensual  love,  or  the  "  loves  of  comfort 
and  despair."  The  object  of  true  love  is  described 
now  as  a  youth  of  exceeding  beauty,  now  as  an 
angel ;  of  false  love,  "  a  woman  coloured  ill."  In 
the  first  series  of  sonnets  (1-125)  the  youth  leads 
the  poet,  much  as  Beatrice  did  Dante,  not  without 
severe  conflict,  much  failure,  and  many  tears,  above 
the  pleasure  of  sense,  above  the  creation  of  phantasy, 
to  the  stage  of  ideal  love ;  and  with  each  succeeding 
step  a  higher  conception  is  formed  of  the  purity 
and  devotion  his  love  requires,  and  of  the  falsehood 
and  nothingness  of  the  world  in  which  he  lives.  At 
last,  by  a  supreme  act  of  oblation  and  consecration, 


24     SHAKESPEABE   AND   THE   REFOBMATION 

the  poet  dedicates  himself,  in  words  taken  from  the 
Church's  Liturgy,  to  the  one,  eternal,  and  only,  fair. 

The  second  series  (123-146)  show  the  misery  of 
false,  sensual  love,  and  of  the  soul  vanquished  and 
wrecked  by  the  siren's  charms.  The  delusion  con- 
sequent upon  such  a  state,  the  degradation  and 
blindness  of  the  soul  enslaved,  its  vain  attempts 
at  freedom,  the  fickleness  and  tyranny  of  the  des- 
troyer are  clearly  portrayed,  and  mark  the  essential 
opposition  in  the  poet's  mind  between  sensual  and 
spiritual  love. 

And  if  it  be  said  that  this  conclusion  is  only 
obtained  by  a  strained,  allegorical  interpretation  of 
the  sonnets,  at  least  of  the  first  series,  if  we  turn 
to  the  comedies  and  tragedies  Ave  find  the  same 
truth.  The  action  of  the  play,  the  development 
of  the  characters  for  good  or  evil,  the  final  issue 
for  happiness  or  woe,  are  determined  as  the  domi- 
nating principle  is  true,  pure  love  or  disordered 
passion.  Nor  does  Shakespeare  ever  allow  this 
issue  to  be  confused.  The  principle  of  degree, 
order,  priority,  which  he  considers  a  fundamental 
law  in  the  physical  universe  and  also,  as  we  shall  see, 
in  the  body  poUtic,  applies  with  equal  strictness  to 
the  moral  sphere,  the  government  of  the  appetites 
in  the  human  soul.  The  lower  appetite  must  yield 
to  the  higher,  sense  to  reason,  and  this  at  any  cost. 
All  love,  true  or  false,  demands  the  surrender  of  all 
else  for  the  one  object :  but  in  the  one  case  the 
sacrifice  ennobles  and  perfects  the  victim,  in  the 


ISABELLA  25 

other,  it  degrades  and  destroys.  "  Omnis  disor- 
dinatio  poena  sua" — Every  disordered  act  brings 
its  own  punishment.  Isabella,  in  "  Measure  for 
Measure,"  is  the  most  perfect  type  of  true  love. 
Votarist  or  Postulant  of  St.  Clare,  she  is  "  dedicate 
to  nothing  temporal."  "  By  her  renouncement "  she 
had  become,  even  in  the  eyes  of  the  licentious  and 
scurrilous  Lucio,  a  "  thing  enskied  and  sainted,"  an 
immortal  spirit.  Yet  hers  is  no  spectral  figure, 
devoid  of  human  feeling.  She  is  not  a  spirit,  but 
a  woman,  and  her  natural  affections  are  intensified, 
because  purified  by  her  supernatural  love ;  and  she 
undertakes  the  advocacy  of  Claudio,  "though  his 
is  the  vice  she  most  abhors."  The  nature  of  true 
love  is  seen  in  the  choice  made  between  her  honour 
and  her  brother's  life.  In  both  Cinthio's  "Epitia" 
and  Whetstone's  "  Cassandra,"  the  sources  of  Shake- 
speare's plot,  the  heroines  yield  their  chastity  for 
their  brother's  sake;  and,  were  domestic  love  the 
highest,  their  conduct  would  be  worthy  of  praise. 
Isabella  has  no  doubt ;  and  her  decision  is  inflexibly 
rooted,  not  from  any  principle  of  independent 
morality,  but  because  her  love  of  the  All  pure  was 
her  life,  her  life  eternal,  and 

"  Better  it  were,  a  brother  died  at  once, 
Than  that  a  sister,  by  redeeming  him, 
Should  die  for  ever." 

— Measure  for  Measure^  ii.  4. 

She  had  rather  be  scourged  and  flayed  than  yield 


26     SHAKESPEARE   AND   THE   REFORMATION 

her  body  "  to  such  abhorred  pollution."  She  casts 
off  her  brother  and  his  sophistries  as  a  foul  tempter, 
defies  him,  and  bids  him  perish.  No  wonder  that 
her  conduct  has  been  so  generally  criticised  for 
its  gloom  and  ascetism.  Hazlitt  "has  not  much 
confidence  in  the  virtue  that  is  sublimely  good  at 
other  people's  expense."  Knight  finds  the  play  full 
of  revolting  scenes.  Coleridge  thinks  it  the  most 
painful  of  Shakespeare's  plays.  To  the  Catholic, 
Isabella  represents  the  noblest  ideal,  the  brightest, 
most  blessed  of  Shakespeare's  heroines,  as  the  type 
of  supernatural  charity  or  of  the  highest  sacrificial 
love. 

In  contradiction  of  what  has  been  said,  "  Romeo 
and  Juliet "  is  quoted  by  rationalist  critics  to  show 
that  Shakespeare  knew  nothing  of  this  distinction  of 
spiritual  and  sensual  love.  Romeo  and  Juliet  are  his 
ideals  of  perfect  love,  and  the  character  of  their  affec- 
tion was  passionate  throughout.  "  Such  love,"  says 
Kreyzig,  "  is  its  own  reward :  life  has  nothing  further 
to  offer."  But,  all  would  admit,  we  suppose,  that  the 
poet  never  intended  to  exhibit  in  each  play  a  type 
of  absolute  morality,  but  such  a  manner  of  conduct 
as  essentially  befitted  the  character  represented. 
Thus  Cleopatra  and  Cressida  are  dramatically  perfect 
characters;  but  morally  they  are  a  shame  to  their 
sex.  Now,  Romeo  and  Juliet  are  types  of  passionate 
love,  that  is,  love  in  which  passion,  not  reason,  is 
the  dominant  principle.  The  passions  indeed  are  not 
evil,  they  are  part  of  our  nature,  and  are  powerful 


ROMEO    AND   JULIET  2/ 

agencies  for  good,  but  within  their  proper  sphere, 
and  under  the  control  of  reason.  Without  such 
control,  when  the  senses  or  feelings  master  reason, 
misery  and  disorder  follow ;  and  this  is  exactly  what 
we  find  in  "Romeo  and  Juliet."  The  whole  play 
portrays  the  consequences  of  ill-regulated  passion. 
The  scene  is  laid  in  an  Italian  summer,  and  the 
emotions  of  Romeo  and  Juliet  are  at  fever  heat. 
Impetuosity,  vehemence,  agitation,  disturbance,  mark 
their  conduct  throughout.  The  whole  action  con- 
sumes but  five  days  from  the  Sunday  to  the  follow- 
ing Friday  morning.  Within  this  space  of  time 
are  the  first  meeting  of  the  lovers,  the  stolen 
interview,  the  secret  marriage,  the  duel,  Tybalt's 
death,  Romeo's  banishment,  and  the  double  suicide 
of  Romeo  and  Juliet.  The  whole  lesson  of  the 
play  is  taught  by  Friar  Lawrence  in  explicit 
terms : — 

"  These  violent  delights  have  violent  ends. 
And  in  their  triumph  die  ;  like  fire  and  powder, 
Which  as  they  kiss,  consume  :  the  sweetest  honey- 
Is  loathsome  in  his  own  deliciousness. 
And  in  the  taste  confounds  the  appetite  : 
Therefore  love  moderately  ;  long  love  doth  so  ; 
Too  swift  arrives  as  tardy  as  too  slow." 

— Romeo  and  Juliet^  ii.  6. 

Just  as  the  "  Midsummer-Night's  Dream  "  shows 
the  folly  of  love  based  merely  on  the  imagination, 
so  "  Romeo  and  Juliet "  manifests  the  ruin  which 
follows  in  love,  which,  though  not  coarse  or  sensual, 


2  8      SHAKESPEARE    AND    THE   REFORMATION 

is  Still  determined  mainly  by  passion.  Thus  Hamlet 
repeats  Friar  Lawrence's  teaching : — 

"  What  to  ourselves  in  passion  we  propose, 
The  passion  ending  doth  the  purpose  lose. 
The  violence  of  either  grief  or  joy 
Their  own  enactions  with  themselves  destroy." 

— Hamlet^  iii.  2. 

And  the  reason  is  that  the  object  of  passion  is 
something  here  and  now,  and  therefore  temporal 
and  passing,  and  when  it  passes  leaves  a  blank,  for 
"  this  world  is  not  for  aye."  The  object  of  true 
love  must  be,  like  Silvia,  "  holy,  fair,  and  wise  "  ;  the 
love  it  inspires  knows  neither  doubt  nor  fear  nor 
change,  and  the  bond  it  forms  is  eternal. 

"  Love  is  not  love 
Which  alters  when  it  alterations  finds 
Or  bends  with  the  remover  to  remove  : 
Oh  no  !  it  is  an  ever-fixed  mark 
That  looks  on  tempests,  and  is  never  shaken  ; 
It  is  the  star  to  every  wanderin<j;  bark, 
Whose  worth's  unknown,  although  liis  height  be  taken  ; 
Love's  not  Time's  fool,  though  rosy  lips  and  cheeks 
Within  his  bending  sickle's  compass  come  ; 
Love  alters  not  with  his  brief  hours  and  weeks, 
But  bears  it  out,  even  to  the  edge  of  doom." 

— Sonnet  civi. 

We  have  now  said  enough  to  determine  a  further 
characteristic  in  Shakespeare's  love  philosophy,  since 
the  object  of  true  love  with  him  is  the  eternal 
truth,  goodness,  and  beauty,  and  is  only  to  be  won 
by  the  renouncement  of  all  else  for  its  sake,  love 
and  religion  with  Shakespeare  become  identified,  and 


SACRIFICE  29 

religion  like  love  bears  an  essentially  sacrificial 
character,  as  we  shall  see  in  detail  in  our  considera- 
tion of  the  love  plays.  In  what  religions,  then,  is 
the  idea  of  sacrifice  found  ? 

We  find  it  in  the  old-world  religions,  and  obscured 
indeed,  but  still  expressed  in  the  Greek  tragedies 
in  their  doctrine  of  the  nemesis  consequent  on  sin, 
and  the  possibility  and  hope  of  a  Divine  atonement. 
It  is  seen  again,  but  in  its  fulness  and  completeness, 
in  the  Catholic  Church,  and  in  the  miracle  and 
mystery  plays  of  the  Middle  Ages,  which  were  based 
in  one  way  or  other  on  the  central  mystery  of  the 
atoning  sacrifice  of  the  Redemption.  But  we  may 
look  for  it  in  vain  in  the  teaching  of  the  Reformers. 
Their  theory  of  salvation  by  election  alone,  already 
noticed,  and  its  correlative  doctrine  of  the  worth- 
lessness  of  works,  excluded  all  idea  of  any  sacrificial 
action  being  needed  on  the  part  of  the  believer. 
Nor  does  it  find  a  place  in  the  form  of  Protestantism 
dictated  and  enforced  by  the  Crown  in  England. 
The  surest  way  to  wealth  and  preferment  was  the 
first  purpose  in  the  new  Erastianism ;  and  creed  and 
discipline  were  accommodated  to  keep  the  royal 
favour.  Men  like  Cranmer  could  boast  with  the 
poet  in  Timon  of  Athens  : — 

"  My  free  drift 
Halts  not  particularly,  but  moves  itself 
In  a  wide  sea  of  wax." — Timon  of  Athens^  i.  i. 

"  The  Church  of  England,"  says  Dr.  DoUinger, 
"  is  content  with  taking  up  just  so  much  share  in 


30     SHAKESPEARE   AND   THE   REFORMATION 

life  as  commerce,  the  enjoyment  of  riches,  and  the 
habitudes  of  a  class  desirous  before  all  things  of 
comfort,  may  have  left  to  it."  ^  Hence  it  abolished 
celibacy,  the  religious  state,  with  its  three  vows  of 
poverty,  chastity,  and  obedience,  and  the  ascetic 
exercises  of  the  ancient  faith,  and  made  the  celebra- 
tion of  mass,  on  which  they  were  all  based,  a  capital 
offence.  Such  a  system,  whatever  temporal  advan- 
tages it  might  olSer,  was  essentially  of  the  earth, 
earthy,  and  could  never  have  evoked  the  veneration 
of  Shakespeare,  or  kindled,  as  did  the  proscribed 
creed,  the  fire  of  his  muse. 

The  Reformed  creed  was  then,  we  think,  from  its 
negative  and  materialistic  tendency,  unfitted  to  give 
birth  to  a  poet.^  "  Catholicism,"  says  Mr.  Matthew 
Arnold,  "  from  its  antiquity,  its  pretensions  to  univer- 
sality, from  its  really  widespread  prevalence,  from 
its  sensuousness,  has  something  European,  august, 
and  imaginative ;  Protestantism  presents,  from  its 
inferiority  in  all  these  respects,  something  pro- 
vincial, mean,  and  prosaic."  ^  Nor  are  Milton  and 
Keble,  the  poets  respectively,  according  to  Professor 

1  "The  Church  and  Churches,"  119,  146  (1862).  He  quotes 
Hallam  to  the  effect  that  the  supremacy  "  is  the  dog's  collar  which 
the  State  puts  on  the  Church  in  return  for  food  and  shelter." — 
Hallara,  "  Constitutional  History,"  iii.  44. 

2  The  late  Archbishop  Trench,  in  his  comparison  of  Calderon 
and  Shakespeare,  takes  a  precisely  opposite  view,  and  speaks  of 
the  advantages  enjoyed  by  the  latter,  because  *'as  the  child  of  the 
Reformation,"  "he  moved  in  a  sphere  of  the  highest  truth." — Life 
and  Oenius  of  Calderon,  78  (1880).  What  that  truth  was  or  where 
it  is  found  in  Shakespeare  we  are  not  told. 

»  "Essays  on  Criticism,"  133,  ed.  1869. 


MILTON   AND   PURITANISM  3 1 

Dowden,  of  Puritanism  and  Anglicanism,  proofs  to 
the  contrary.  Milton  is  great  in  his  theme.  He 
sings  "  in  glorious  hymns  the  equipage  of  God's 
almightiness,  the  victorious  agonies  of  saints  and 
martyrs,  the  deeds  and  triumphs  of  just  nations, 
doing  valiantly  in  faith  against  the  enemies  of 
Christ."  As  an  epic  poet  he  has  been  ranked 
above  Homer  and  Dante,  yet  his  vision  of  the  other 
world  is  materialistic,  prosaic,  and  dull,  and  he 
fails  just  where  the  voice  of  the  seer  should  speak. 
This  is  so  because  his  Calvinistic  creed  forbade 
mystery. 

He  was  deaf  to  Dante's  constant  warning,  "  State, 
umana  gente  alia  quia."  Everything  must  be  ex- 
plained— the  secrets  of  the  divine  counsel ;  the  strife 
between  good  and  evil;  the  precise  cause  of  each 
individual  fall — all  must  be  laid  bare.  Hence  God 
justifies  himself,  Adam  excuses  himself,  and  Satan 
is  defiant.  Adam  and  Eve,  at  dinner  with  the 
angel  in  Paradise,  talk  and  act,  says  M.  Taine,  like 
Colonel  Hutchinson  and  his  wife ;  and  their  want  of 
clothing  is  felt  to  be  wholly  incongruous.  "What 
dialogues ! "  that  somewhat  caustic  critic  goes  on  to 
say.  "  Dissertations  capped  by  politeness,  mutual 
sermons  concluded  by  bows.  What  bows !  Philo- 
sophical compliments  and  moral  smiles.  .  .  .  This 
Adam  entered  Paradise  vid  England."  ^     The  "  Para- 

1  •*  English  Literature,"  i.  443.  Col.  Hutchinson  sat  in  the 
Long  Parliament  for  Nottingham,  and  in  the  High  Court  of  Justice, 
which  sentenced  Charles  I.  to  death.  His  memoirs  were  written 
by  his  wife,  Lucy  Hutchinson,  and  were  printed  in  1806. 


32      SHAKESPEARE   AND   THE   REFORMATION 

dise  Lost"  could  never  be  called  divine.  How  is 
it  that  Dante,  in  spite  of  his  detailed,  precise,  and 
realistic  treatment  of  the  supernatural,  succeeds  in 
creating  an  impression  so  precisely  spiritual  ?  It 
is  because  he  works  on  the  lines  of  dogma  and 
mystery,  the  ideal  of  the  supernatural  fixed  for  him 
by  his  faith.  The  Puritan  poet,  on  the  other  hand, 
had  to  draw  exclusively  on  his  own  human  and 
utterly  inadequate  conceptions,  and  thus  instead  of 
sublime  he  becomes  grotesque.  Milton  brings  down 
heaven  to  earth  and  makes  spiritual  things  terres- 
trial. Dante  transports  earth  to  heaven,  and  shows 
all  transformed  in  the  light  of  God's  anger  or  of 
His  love. 

So  too  with  Keble.  Professor  Dowden  calls  him 
the  poet  of  Anglicanism,  but  in  ritual,  liturgy,  doc- 
trine, what  material  did  it  present  for  his  muse  ? 
"  The  Catholic  Church,"  says  Cardinal  Newman,  "  is 
the  poet  of  her  children,  full  of  music  to  soothe  the 
sad  and  control  the  wayward,  wonderful  in  story  for 
the  imagination  of  the  romantic,  rich  in  symbol  and 
imagery,  so  that  gentle  and  delicate  feelings,  which 
will  not  bear  words,  may  in  silence  intimate  their 
presence  or  commune  with  themselves.  Her  very 
being  is  poetry ;  every  psalm,  every  petition,  every 
collect,  every  versicle,  the  cross,  the  mitre,  the 
thurible,  is  a  fulfilment  of  some  dream  of  childhood 
or  aspiration  of  youth."  ^  How  much  of  this  divine 
element  did  Keble  find  in  the  Anglican  system? 

1  "Essays  Critical  and  Historical,"  vol.  ii.  443,  9th  edit. 


PROTESTANT   RITUAL  33 

"A  ritual  dashed  to  the  ground,  trodden  on  and 
broken  piecemeal ;  prayers  clipped,  pieced,  torn, 
shuffled  about  at  pleasure,  until  the  meaning  of  the 
composition  perished,  and  what  had  been  poetry- 
was  no  longer  even  good  prose — antiphons,  hymns, 
benedictions,  invocations  shovelled  away ;  Scripture 
lessons  turned  into  chapters,  heaviness,  feebleness, 
unwieldiness  .  .  .  and  for  orthodoxy  a  frigid,  un- 
elastic,  inconsistent,  dull  helpless  dogmatic,  which 
could  give  no  just  account  of  itself,  yet  was  intole- 
rant of  all  teaching  which  contained  a  doctrine 
more  or  a  doctrine  less,  and  resented  every  attempt 
to  give  it  a  meaning."  ^  And  then  Cardinal  New- 
man goes  on  to  show  how  Keble's  "  happy  magic 
made  the  Anglican  Church  seem  what  Catholicism 
was  and  is."  ^  How  the  bishops,  to  their  surprise, 
were  told  of  "  their  gracious  arm  outstretched  to 
bless,"  and  the  communion  table  became  "  the 
dread  altar,"  and  "  holy  lamps  were  blazing "  and 
"  perfumed  embers  quivering  bright,"  with  "  stoled 
priests  ministering  at  them,"  while  the  "  floor  was 
by  knees  of  sinners  worn." 

Two  other  points  call  for  notice  in  contrasting 
Shakespeare's  teaching  with  that  of  the  Reforma- 
tion. The  one  system  of  philosophy  attacked,  ridi- 
culed, and  vilified  by  Luther  and  his  followers  in 
every  land,  was  the  scholastic.  Hence,  new  theories 
constantly  sprang  into  existence,  even  within  the 

1  "  Essays  Critical  and  Historical,"  vol.  ii.  443,  9th  edit. 
2  Ibid. 

C 


34      SHAKESPEARE   AND   THE    REFORMATION 

Church,  and  the  doctrines  of  Pythagoras,  Plato,  and 
Aristotle  were  interpreted  anew,  and  in  an  anti- 
scholastic  sense,  with  the  purpose  of  harmonising 
Catholic  doctrine  with  the  new  modes  of  thought. 
The  attempt  was  an  utter  failure,  the  new  systems 
perished  of  themselves,  or  were  obliterated  in  the 
wild  doctrines  to  which  they  gave  birth.  Now 
among  this  multitude  of  systems  and  confusion  of 
ideas,  it  is  remarkable  how  constantly  Shakespeare 
adheres  in  philosophical  questions  to  the  scholastic 
system.  He  is  distinctly  Thomist  on  the  following 
points :  his  doctrine  of  the  genesis  of  knowledge 
and  its  strictly  objective  character;^  the  power  of 
reflection  as  distinctive  of  rational  creatures ;  ^  the 
formation  of  habits,^  intellectual  and  moral;  the 
whole  operation  of  the  imaginative  faculty.*  And 
he  shows  his  opposition  to  the  Pantheism  of  Gior- 
dano Bruno  and  others  in  insisting  on  the  individual 
and  permanent  subsistence  of  each  human  being — 
the  "  I  am  that  I  am,"  and  on  the  law  of  self-pre- 
servation, as  flowing  therefrom.  This  insistence  on 
the  individual  is  seen  again  in  his  teaching  of  the 
eternal  consequences  of  single  acts,  in  his  reprobation 
of  suicide,  and  in  such  lines  as  the  following : — 

"  The  single  and  peculiar  life  is  bound, 
With  all  the  strength  and  ardour  of  the  mind, 
To  keep  itself  from  'noyance." — Hamlet^  iii.  3. 


^  •'Troilus  and  Cressida,"iii.  3.  -  Ibid. 

*  '•  Hamlet,"  iii.  4.  "*  "  Midsummer-Night's  Dream.' 


PREFERENCE   FOR   ARISTOTLE  3  5 

From  the  same  principle  was  derived,  as  we 
believe,  Shakespeare's  extraordinary  and  perhaps 
unequalled  power  of  delineating  character.  Each 
individual,  with  him,  is  a  separate  creation  of  his 
genius.  Each  stands  by  itself  in  its  beginning, 
growth,  and  term.  The  growth  may  be  from  evil 
to  good,  as  with  Henry  V.,  or  from  bad  to  worse,  as 
with  Antony ;  but  with  each,  the  germ  of  the  im  - 
provement  or  the  declension  is  seen  in  its  beginning 
and  throughout  its  course,  till  it  bears  its  legitimate 
fruit,  as  the  voice  of  conscience  or  of  self-love  has 
been  followed.  And  these  individual  creations  are 
so  real  and  lifelike,  because  the  poet  believed  in  the 
"  peculiar  and  single  "  reality  of  each  human  life. 

Shakespeare's  adherence  to  the  scholastic  philo- 
sophy in  these  and  other  points,  and  the  predilection 
which  he  generally  manifests  for  a  system  so  un- 
popular, and  essentially  unprotestant,  is  a  further 
proof  of  his  antagonism  to  his  times.  He  may 
ridicule  Pythagoras  and  his  transmigration  of  souls, 
the  Stoics  and  their  affected  indifference  as  to  suf- 
ferings they  had  never  experienced,  the  philosophical 
persons  who  account  for  everything  by  natural  causes. 
But  of  Aristotle  he  speaks  with  respect.  Lucentio, 
at  Padua,  is  not  to  be  so  absorbed  in  Aristotle  as  to 
forget  Ovid ;  but  the  teaching  of  that  philosopher 
is  for  the  serious  and  sincere,  not  for  the  shallow 
and  superficial,  those  "young  men  whom  Aristotle 
thought  unfit  to  hear  moral  philosophy."^     The  ease 

1  "Troilus  and  Creesida,"  ii.  2. 


36     SHAKESPEARE   AND   THE   REFORMATION 

and  accuracy  again  with  which  he  employs  scholas- 
ticism as  the  vehicle  for  his  deepest  thoughts  show, 
that  with  a  master  mind  like  his,  as  with  Dante 
and  Calderon,  poetic  and  philosophic  truth  are  one, 
and  that  a  nomenclature,  superficially  regarded  as 
crabbed,  meaningless,  and  obsolete,  can  furnish  ex- 
pression for  the  richest  poetry. 

Another  distinctive  characteristic  of  Shakespeare 
is  his  use  of  casuistry,  or  the  science  which  decides 
the  application  in  particular  cases  of  a  general  moral 
law  or  principle ;  there  being  many  cases  when  such 
a  decision  is,  for  unaided  reason,  extremely  difficult. 
For  instance,  does  a  rash  oath  bind  ?  Must  the 
truth  be  always  told,  even  to  one  who  has  no  right 
to  know,  and  when  its  disclosure  inflicts  a  grievous 
injury  on  an  innocent  person  ?  The  dilemma  in 
both  cases  is,  that  if  the  obligation  hold,  wrong  is 
done,  whichever  course  is  taken.  Now,  according 
to  the  main  principles  of  Protestantism,  by  which 
each  man  is  the  sole  interpreter  of  the  moral  law,  as 
of  revealed  doctrine,  and  human  engagements  are 
supreme,  the  oath  or  word  must  be  kept  at  any 
cost ;  and  the  difficulty  of  the  sinful  consequences 
would  be  met  by  the  Calvinistic  axiom,  that  "  some 
commandments  of  God  are  impossible."  Now 
Shakespeare  discusses  both  these  cases,  and  teaches 
exactly  the  contrary  doctrine.  He  shows  by  the 
mouth  of  Pandulph  that  the  sanctity  of  an  oath  or 
vow  is  based  primarily  on  our  reverence  to  God, 
whose  name  has  been  invoked,  and   that   a  rash 


CASUISTRY  37 

or  sacrilegious  oath  must  not  be  kept,  else  art 
thou 

"  Most  forsworn  to  keep  what  thou  didst  swear." 

— King  John,  iii.  i. 

And  a  complete  exposition  of  when  an  unlawful 
oath  may  be  kept,  not  vi  juramenti,  but  through  a 
notable  change  of  circumstances,  is  found  in  the  same 
speech,  as  will  be  seen  in  Chapter  III.  Similarly, 
the  lawfulness  of  the  use  of  equivocation,  when  the 
truth  is  unjustly  demanded,  is  laid  down  by  the 
Duke  in  "  Measure  for  Measure  "  in  precise  terms : — 

"  Pay  with  falsehood  false  exacting." 

— Measure  for  Measure,  iii.  2. 

Truth  is  a  coin,  and  we  may  pay  a  thief  in  false 
money.  Isabella  feels  the  difficulty  of  following  the 
Duke's  advice  and  "  speaking  thus  indirectly  " ;  but 
she  is  advised  to  do  it  "  to  veil  full  purpose."  That 
is,  the  truth  and  fidelity  we  owe  to  some  may  be  at 
times  only  discharged  by  veiling  truth  to  others. 
This  is  so,  of  course,  as  regards  the  professional 
secrets  of  lawyers,  physicians,  priests;  but  though 
recognised  and  acted  on  in  practice,  the  theory  of 
equivocation  was  denounced  in  Shakespeare's  time 
as  Jesuitical  and  vile,  as  much  as  it  is  now ;  and  it 
is  remarkable  that  he  should  be  again  found  defend- 
ing the  unpopular  and  Catholic  side. 

Proceeding  now  from  Shakespeare's  philosophy  to 
his  portraiture  of  his  age  and  its  politics,  his  an- 
tagonism will,  we  think,  be  found  equally  apparent. 


38      SHAKESPEARE   AND   THE   KEFORMATION 

It  has  been  remarked  that  Shakespeare,  in  spite  of 
the  all-embracing  character  of  his  verse,  makes  no 
allusion  to  ecclesiastical  architecture,  "a  fact  the 
more  remarkable  because  of  the  number  of  grand 
churches,  abbeys,  and  shrines  he  must  have  passed 
in  his  annual  journey  from  Stratford  to  London."  ^ 
The  omission  is  doubtless  remarkable,  but  it  be- 
comes intelligible  when  we  remember  that  church- 
building  practically  ceased  in  England  from  the 
accession  of  EHzabeth  till  the  reign  of  Charles  I., 
and  that  the  ancient  fanes  and  sanctuaries  had  been 
wrecked  and  gutted.  What  Shakespeare  did  see 
was,  not  the  noble  abbeys  and  religious  houses  in 
their  sacred  grandeur  and  beauty,  but 

"  Bare  ruined  choirs,  where  late  the  sweet  birds  sang." 

— Sonnet  Ixxiii. 

There  have  been  repeated  suppressions  of  reli- 
gious orders;  but  nowhere  as  in  England  has  the 
work  of  the  spoiler  left  so  indelible  a  mark.  In 
the  French  revolution  the  monastic  buildings  were 
quarried  or  otherwise  effaced.  In  Italy,  in  our  own 
times,  the  religious  houses  when  secularised  have 
been  converted  into  hospitals  or  barracks,  or  pre- 
served as  national  monuments.  In  our  own  country 
they  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  king  or  his 
favourites,  who  unroofed  and  gutted  them  for  the 
lead  and  valuables  they  contained,  but  left  the  walls 
as  a  witness  to  their  work  of  destruction. 

*  Ouardian,  March  19,  1897. 


RUINED    SHRINES  39 

Now,  besides  tlie  ruins  of  the  Augustinian  monas- 
tery at  Kenilworth,  and  of  the  Benedictine  monks 
at  Coventry  in  his  own  Warwickshire,  there  lay  in 
or  about  his  London  journey,  ruined,  dismantled,  or 
secularised,  St.  Frideswide's  priory  of  Augustinian 
friars,  six  Benedictine  monasteries  and  colleges  at 
Oxford,  the  Benedictine  nunneries  at  Godstone, 
Abingdon,  and  Wallingford,  the  Augustinian  Canons 
at  Goring  and  Dorchester ;  the  vast  remains  of 
Reading  Abbey,  the  last  superior  of  which.  Abbot 
Cook,  had  been  hanged  and  martyred  at  the  Abbey 
Gate,  November  15,  1539;  Medenham  Abbey  of 
the  Augustinian  Canons,  and  the  Benedictine  nun- 
nery at  Marlow,  both  on  the  river-side.  Again, 
on  the  Thames,  at  Twickenham,  of  the  Brigettine 
nuns  of  Sion,  and  the  Carthusians  at  Sheen,  built 
by  Henry  V.,  as  Shakespeare  himself  tells  us,  in 
expiation  of  his  father's  dethronement  of  Richard 
IL,  the 

"  Two  chantries,  where  the  sad  and  solemn  priests 
Sing  still  for  Richard's  soul."— Henry  V.,  iv.  i. 

The  poet  knew  then  the  origin  of  the  monastic 
foundations  and  some  of  the  purposes  they  served ; 
and  the  two  last  named  had  been  restored  by  Mary, 
and  suppressed  only  on  Elizabeth's  accession. 

And  what  was  the  motive  of  all  this  wreck  and 
ruin  ?  The  visitation  conducted  by  the  king  s  com- 
missioners had  proved  the  religious  houses,  great 
and  small,  free  from  scandals,  observant,  and  reli- 


40     SHAKESPEARE   AND   THE   REFORMATION 

gious,  as  became  their  state.  One  motive  alone 
destroyed  these  abodes  of  hospitahty,  learning,  and 
prayer — the  greed  of  gold.  How  does  Shakespeare 
regard  this  religion  of  naturalism  ?  In  what  lan- 
guage of  bitter  scathing  invective  does  he  denounce 
covetousness  and  its  effects  ? — 

"  Gold  ?  yellow,  glittering,  precious  gold  ? — 
No,  gods,  I  am  no  idle  votarist.^ 

Roots,  you  clear  heavens  !     Thus  much  of  this  will  make 
Black,  white  ;  foul,  fair  ;  wrong,  right ; 
Base,  noble  ;  old,  young  ;  coward,  valiant. 
Ha,  you  gods  !  why  this  ?    What  this,  you  gods  ?    Why  this 
Will  lug  your  priests  and  servants  from  your  sides  ; 
Pluck  stout  men's  pillows  from  below  their  heads  ; 
This  yellow  slave 

Will  knit  and  break  religions  ;  bless  the  accurs'd  ; 
Make  the  hoar  leprosy  ador'd  ;  place  thieves, 
And  give  them  title,  knee,  and  approbation. 
With  senators  on  the  bench  :  this  is  it 
That  makes  the  wappened  widow  wed  again  : 
She  whom  the  spital-house  and  ulcerous  sores 
Would  cast  the  gorge  at,  this  embalms  and  spices 
To  the  April  day  again." — 7\mon  of  Athens^  iv.  3. 

And  if  his  purpose  was  to  represent  "  the  very 
age  and  pressure  of  the  time,"  is  the  picture  of  it 
drawn  here  favourable  or  not  ?  And  observe  that 
the  effect  of  avarice  is  to  "  knit  and  break  religions  " ; 
and  this  is  precisely  what  it  did.  It  unmade  the 
old  faith,  and  constructed  the  new. 

And  when  he  arrived  in  London,  he  would  have 
seen,  besides  the  religious  houses  secularised  -and 
ruined,   the  widespread    misery    wrought    by    their 

^  Religious. 


HIDDEN   MISERY  4 1 

destruction.  Professor  Dowden  dwells  with  com- 
placency on  the  visible  pomp  and  splendour  of  life, 
which  burst  forth  in  the  Tudor  age;  on  Raleigh's 
silver  armour  and  his  shoes  worth  600  gold  pieces ; 
and  tells  with  evident  pleasure  of  the  charm  exer- 
cised by  the  new  mundane  ritual  on  Bacon  as  shown  in 
his  Essays  on  Buildings  and  Gardens.  Shakespeare 
himself  describes  in  "  Cymbeline  "  the  interior  of 
a  lady's  room  with  all  its  artistic  beauty,  showing 
the  luxury  of  the  age.  But  the  picture  had  its 
reverse.  This  very  display  was  obtained  only  at 
the  expense  of  much  suffering.  What  Shakespeare 
writes  of  Henry  VIII.  may  equally  be  applied  to 
EHzabeth's  courtiers.  Her  entertainers  might  appear 
in  their  pageants 

"All  clinquant,  all  in  gold,  like  heathen  gods." 

—Henry  VIIL,  i.  i. 

each  new  masque  might  be  "  cried  incomparable  " : 
but  with  what  result  ?  The  irreparable  impoverish- 
ment of  many  a  fair  estate,  and  the  bankruptcy  of 
many  a  noble  house,  without  a  hope  of  compensation 

or  gratitude  from  the  royal  guest. 

"0,  many 
Have  broke  their  backs  with  laying  manors  on  them 
For  this  great  journey.     What  did  this  vanity, 
But  minister  communication  of 
A  most  poor  issue?"— Henri/  VII I.,  i.  1. 

Yet  one  issue  it  had.  The  peasantry,  once  the 
prosperous  tenants  of  churchman  and  abbot,  now 
the  oppressed  vassals  of  the  new  spendthrift  nobles, 


42      SHAKESPEARE    AND   THE   REFORMATION 

were  in  a  starving  condition ;   and  their  miserable 

and    desperate    appearance    alarmed    the  queen  in 

her  royal   progresses,  and  with  reason.     For   such 

suffering 

"  Makes  bold  moutlis  : 
Tongues  spit  their  duties  out,  and  cold  hearts  freeze 
Allegiance  in  them  ;  their  curses  now 
Live  where  their  prayers  did  ;  and  it's  come  to  pass 
That  tractable  obedience  is  a  slave 
To  each  incensM  will. — Henry  VIIL,  i.  2. 

Elizabeth  felt  the  truth  of  this,  and  in  1595 
ordered  that  all  vagabonds  near  London  should  be 
hanged ;  and  along  with  the  religious  and  priests — 
peaceable  citizens  put  to  death  for  practising  the 
Faith,  which  the  queen  at  her  coronation  had  sworn 
to  defend — some  500  criminals  or  vagrants  were 
executed  every  year.  Hentzner  says  that  he  counted 
above  thirty  heads  on  London  Bridge.^  Elizabeth's 
merciless  decree  seems  indeed  to  have  been  carried 
out  in  the  spirit  of  Timon's  speech : — 

"  Put  armour  on  thine  ears  and  on  thine  eyes  ; 
Whose  proof,  nor  yells  of  mothers,  maids,  nor  babes, 
Nor  sight  of  priests  in  holy  vestments  bleeding. 
Shall  pierce  a  jot." — Timon  of  Athens^  iv.  3. 

And  the  condition  of  the  new  nobility  revealed 
equally  the  weight  of  the  new  despotism  now  pressing 
on  the  country.  Mere  upstarts  and  adventurers, 
like  Cecil  and  Paulet,  without  name  or  lineage, 
with  no  principle  but  their  own  gain,  the  servile 
instruments  of  the  Crown,  were  wholly  incapable  of 

1  "Travels  in  England  "  (edited  by  H.  Walpole,  1797),  3. 


ABSOLUTISM  43 

resisting  its  encroachments,  and  were  poor  substitutes 
for  the  Neviles,  Percys,  Howards,  who,  whatever  their 
faults,  had  repeatedly  saved  the  liberties  of  their 
country.  The  Commons  also  were  reduced  to  a 
state  of  vassalage.  Elizabeth  informed  her  first 
Parliament,  through  Bacon,  that  she  consulted  them 
not  from  necessity,  but  from  choice,  to  render  her 
laws  more  acceptable  to  the  people.  Parliaments 
were  in  fact  summoned  only  to  legalise  some  act  of 
royal  oppression.  So  too  with  the  executive :  the 
judge  ruled  and  the  jury  found,  not  according  to 
law  or  fact,  but  as  the  sovereign  willed ;  and  with 
the  army  of  spies  and  informers  ready  to  offer  any 
evidence  required,  no  subject's  life  was  safe.  The 
Tudor  sovereignty,  then,  represented  a  new  Csesarism; 
all  the  intermediary  checks  on  absolutism  were  swept 
away;  the  body  politic  consisted  of  two  factors, 
the  monarch  and  the  multitude. 

Now,  such  a  system  was  in  Shakespeare's  judg- 
ment destructive  of  the  very  life  of  a  State.  In 
Ulysses'  speech,  condemning  the  factions  in  the 
Grecian  camp,  we  have  the  poet's  principle  of  govern- 
ment. All  things  in  nature,  he  says,  are  in  a 
graduated  scale,  and  their  strength  and  stability 
depend  on  the  due  subordination  or  relation  of 
part  to  part. 

"  The  heavens  themselves,  the  planets,  and  this  centre, 
Observe  degree,  priority,  and  place, 
Insisture,  course,  proportion,  season,  form, 
Office,  and  custom,  in  all  line  of  order." 

— Troilus  and  Gressida,  i.  3. 


44      SHAKESPEARE    AND   THE   REFORMATION 

"  Degree  being  vizarded,"  without  this  order  and  the 
due  nexus  of  link  to  link,  "  the  unity  and  married 
calm  of  states  is  rent  and  cracked."  By  degree 
alone  or  the  ordered  juncture  of  successive  grades, 
merit  is  recognised,  scholarship,  civil  and  commercial 
life,  are  advanced  and  secured.  Degree  gone,  when 
all  men  are  kept  under  the  mask  of  a  dead  level, 
there  is  no  distinction  between  the  unworthiest  and 
the  most  deserving.  To  respect  of  superiors  succeeds 
an  "  envious  fever  "  of  those  in  authority.  Justice 
is  no  more;  force  alone  is  right;  and  force  is  but 
the  instrument  of  appetite  or  greed,  "an  universal 
wolf,"  which,  after  consuming  all  else,  "  last  eats  up 
himself." 

Such  was  Shakespeare's  view  of  a  levelling 
tyranny,  and  he  saw  his  country  the  victim  to  this 
scourge.     The  England,  then,  which  he  loved, 

"  This  dear,  dear  land, 
Dear  for  her  reputation  throughout  the  world," 

was  not  the  England  of  his  day.  No,  his  country 
might  be  great  in  naval  adventure,  in  industrial 
and  commercial  enterprise ;  new  fields  of  wealth 
might  be  opened  out  to  certain  classes,  but  its 
true  greatness  and  ancient  liberty,  its  former  glory, 
its  true  chivalry  were  gone,  and 

"  That  England  which  was  wont  to  conquer  others, 
Is  now  made  a  shameful  conquest  to  itself." 

The  Elizabethan  pageants  might  dazzle  others,  to 
him  they  were  but  pinchbeck  splendour  and  tinsel 


ANTAGONISM   TO   HIS    TIMES  45 

pomp,  the  trappings  of  oppression  and  shame.    Thus 
he  dehvers  his  soul : — 

"  Tired  with  all  these,  for  restful  death  I  cry, — 
As,  to  behold  desert  a  beggar  born, 
And  needy  nothing  trimmed  in  jollity, 
And  purest  faith  unhappily  forsworn, 
And  gilded  honour  shamefully  misplaced, 
And  maiden  virtue  rudely  strumpeted, 
And  right  perfection  wrongfully  disgraced, 
And  strength  by  limping  sway  disabled, 
And  art  made  tongue-tied  by  authority, 
And  folly  (doctor-like)  controlling  skill, 
And  simple  truth  miscalled  simplicity, 
And  captive  good  attending  captain  ill : 
Tired  with  all  these,  from  these  would  I  be  gone, 
Save  that  to  die,  I  leave  my  love  alone." 

— Sonnet  Ixvi. 

Professor  Dowden  says  that  Shakespeare  must 
have  been  the  product  of  his  age,  unless  he  were 
in  antagonism  to  it.  We  think  we  have  already 
given  considerable  proof  of  the  existence  of  such 
antagonism,  and  the  proof  will  be  confirmed  if  we 
consider  his  historical  plays. 

In  dealing  with  English  history,  consider  then 
the  subjects  he  might  have  chosen,  had  he  been 
the  product  of  the  Elizabethan  era.  The  over- 
throw of  the  Pope,  as  treated  by  Bale  in  "The 
Troublesome  Reign  of  King  John,"  or  by  Spenser  ^ 
in  "  The  Faerie  Queene  " ;  the  Gunpowder  Plot  de- 
nounced by  Ben  Jonson  in  his  "  Catiline " ;  the 
destruction  of  the  Armada,  as  sung  by  Dekker;  y 
the  glorification  of  Elizabeth,  as  added  by  Fletcher 
to  "  Henry  VIII." — all  these  themes,  instinct  with 


46     SHAKESPEARE    AND   THE   REFORMATION 

the  triumphs  of  the  new  order,  were  before  him, 
yet  not  one  of  them  finds  mention  in  his  song. 
On  the  contrary,  his  Muse  is  occupied,  almost 
exckisively,  with  the  men  and  women,  the  spirit 
and  temper,  the  speech  and  customs  of  feudal 
times.  His  ideal  prince  is  Henry  V.,  and  his 
portraiture  is  drawn  in  markedly  Catholic  lines. 
King  John,  the  accepted  representative  of  a  Pro- 
testant king,  the  prototype  of  Henry  VIII.  in  his 
triumphant  conflict  with  the  Pope,  becomes  in 
Shakespeare's  hands  a  mean  villain  and  the  van- 
quished suppliant  to  the  Roman  Legate.  Henry 
VIII.  himself  is  depicted  as  a  cruel,  selfish,  base 
hypocrite,  with  an  audacity  which  made  Dr.  Dol- 
linger  remark,  as  Simpson  tells  us,  that,  seeing 
what  Shakespeare  might  have  made  of  him  as  the 
founder  of  Protestantism,  this  play  furnishes  the 
strongest  proof  of  the  poet's  Catholic  sympathies. 
Ehzabeth  herself  is  passed  over  in  silence;  and 
even  at  her  death,  when  all  the  contemporary 
poets  were  chiming  her  glories  and  virtues,  Shake- 
speare alone  was  silent ;  and  to  mark  still  further 
the  contrast,  the  heroine  of  his  choice  in  Tudor 
times  is  the  pure,  noble.  Catholic  queen,  the 
divorced  and  dethroned  Katherine. 

In  opposition  to  what  has  been  said,  Shake- 
speare's frequent  biblical  references  and  quotations 
are  advanced  as  a  convincing  argument  on  behalf 
of  his  Protestantism ;  especially  by  the  late  Bishop 
Wordsworth  of  St.  Andrews,  and  recently,  by  the 


USE    OF    SCRIPTURE  47 

Rev.  T.  Carter  in  his  "  Shakespeare,  a  Puritan  and 
Recusant."  The  use  of  the  Bible  was  indeed  a  test 
question  in  the  poet's  time.  The  Reformers  alleged 
that  Rome  had  withheld  the  Bible  from  the  laity 
or  obscured  its  meaning.  Luther  was  the  first, 
they  said,  to  place  it  within  reach  of  the  people 
by  the  translation  he  had  prepared.  Thus  the 
Homilies  exhort  all  "  to  diligently  search  the  well 
of  life  in  the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  and  not 
run  to  the  stinking  puddles  of  men's  traditions," 
meaning  thereby,  of  course,  the  Church's  authority. 
The  shibboleth,  then,  "  the  Bible  only,"  signified 
both  that  the  Bible  Avas  the  sole  rule  of  faith, 
and  that  each  individual  was  its  authorised  inter- 
preter, and  was  free  to  choose  his  own  text  and 
to  put  his  own  interpretation  upon  it ;  even  though 
the  sense  selected  was  explicitly  contradicted  by 
other  passages  of  the  sacred  volume. 

"  I  am  Sir  Oracle, 
And  when  I  speak,  let  no  dog  ope  his  mouth." 

— Merchant  of  Venice,  i.  i 

fitly  expresses  the  new  mode  of  biblical  Herme- 
neutics,  and  it  is  precisely  in  this  manner  that 
Shakespeare's  Bible  Christians  use,  or  rather  abuse, 
the  Holy  Scriptures.  The  characters  conspicuous 
in  this  respect  are  Jack  Cade  and  his  followers, 
Costard  and  Holofernes,  Quince  and  Bottom,  Parson 
Evans,  in  a  very  mixed  fashion,  and  above  all 
Falstaff.     All  these,  as  will  be  seen,  quote  individual 


48      SHAKESPEARE   AND   THE   REFORM ATION 

texts  or  apply  scriptural  references  in  some  strained 
sense  for  their  own  ends,  just  as  the  Presbyterians 
or  Covenanters  do  in  the  Waverley  novels.  The 
method  of  reasoning,  then,  used  to  prove  Shake- 
speare a  Protestant  from  this  kind  of  biblical 
quotation  would  equally  make  Scott  a  Puritan. 
So  evident  is  Shakespeare's  satire  that  Bowdler 
repeatedly  omits  these  biblical  quotations  because 
of  their  profaneness.  Wordsworth  takes  him  to 
task  for  so  doing,  and  the  point  of  many  a  speech 
and  the  individualisation  of  the  speaker  are  un- 
doubtedly lost  by  such  omission.  But  though 
Shakespeare  did  not  intend  to  be  profane  himself, 
for  "Reverence,"  as  he  says,  "is  the  angel  of  the 
world,"  he  did  intend  the  speaker  to  be  so,  and 
to  show  by  his  profanity  the  abuse  which  must 
result  from  "  the  Bible  only "  theory,  and  that 
"there  is  no  damned  error  but  a  sober  brow  will 
write  a  text  on,"  or  that  "  the  devil  himself  can 
quote  Scripture."  With  this  well-known  power  of 
irony,  could  he  have  chosen  a  more  efficacious 
method  of  exposing  the  abuse  of  the  new  "  Gospel 
method,"  than  by  making  it  the  favourite  weapon 
of  canting  fools,  knaves,  and  hypocrites  ? 

With  regard  to  the  version  employed  by  Shake- 
speare, we  do  not  think  any  trustworthy  argument 
can  be  drawn  for  either  side;  and  we  willingly 
concede  to  the  followers  of  Bishop  Wordsworth  any 
consolation  they  may  derive  from  Shakespeare's  em- 
ployment of  the  "Amen"  sixty  times,  in  proof  of 


PERSONAL   CHARACTERISTICS  49 

his  being  a  member  of  the  Church  of  England.  But 
could  it  be  proved  demonstrably  that  the  poet  had 
used  exclusively  a  Protestant  version,  it  would  only 
be  what  we  should  expect.  If  he  meant  his  Bible 
Christians  to  speak  as  Protestants  did,  he  would 
naturally  make  them  use  the  phrases  proper  to  that 
body ;  and  his  doing  so  would  show  nothing  as  to 
his  own  religious  belief. 

The  foregoing  pages  will,  we  think,  have  shown 
that  Shakespeare's  ideas,  whether  philosophical  or 
political,  moral  or  religious,  were  in  no  way  those 
of  the  Elizabethan  era;  and  the  opposition  is  en- 
hanced if  we  consider  the  poet  himself  and  some 
of  his  characteristics.  We  know  how  hard  it  is 
to  speak  of  a  character  so  silent  and  reserved  as 
Shakespeare.  Unlike  Ben  Jonson,  who  loved  to 
talk  himself,  and  to  have  his  conversation  reported, 
Shakespeare,  though  loving  and  loved,  has  left  no 
record  of  himself  or  his  friends.  We  can  gather 
from  his  writings  that  constancy,  fidelity,  secrecy, 
truth,  were  the  qualities  he  most  esteemed.  His 
ideal  man  is  true  to  himself,  true  to  his  friends. 
He  scorns  to  betray  even  the  devil,  and  despises 
"graceless  spies"  and  "suborned  informers."  He 
hates  "  encounterers  glib  of  tongue," 

"  That  wide  unclasp  the  tables  of  their  hearts 
To  every  ticklish  reader  ! " — Troilus  and  Gressida,  iv.  5. 

The  self-revelation  made  in  the  sonnets,  though 
most  obscure,  is  yet  like  personal  pain,  the  "  goring 

D 


50       SHAKESPEARE    AND   THE   REFORMATION 

his  own  thought,"  a  sort  of  sacrilege,  selling  cheap 
by  the  fact  of  publicity  "what  was  most  dear." 
Others  may  win  respect  by  truth  of  words;  his 
thoughts  should  be  dumb,  "speak  only  in  effect" 
(by  facts).  Nay,  he  would  be  dead  to  all  else  but 
to  one  dear  friend,  his  own  secret  love. 

"  None  else  to  me,  nor  I  to  none  alive." 

— Sonnet  cxii. 

His  was  a  soul,  then,  that  dwelt  apart,  evoking 
out  of  its  own  depths  his  mighty  works,  but  veiling 
its  still  greater  self.  This  secrecy  is  consistent  with 
his  philosophical  doctrine  that  the  mind  is  nothing 
till  it  has  gone  out  of  itself  and  is  "  married  "  to  its 
true  object.  It  is  consistent  also  with  the  kind  of 
development  his  character  would  have  taken,  were 
his  sympathies  wholly  with  a  proscribed  religion 
whose  followers  knew  each  other  by  secret  signs 
and  communicated  in  passwords.  But  such  a  dis- 
position, so  reserved,  sensitive,  fastidious,  bears  no 
resemblance  to  certain  modern  portraitures  of  him. 
To  our  mind,  Shakespeare,  with  his  high  and  hidden 
ideals,  was  far  more  like  a  veiled  prophet  than  the 
mere  Hooker  and  Bacon  combination  of  utilitarian 
common-sense  and  experimental  science  described  by 
Professor  Dowden.  Had  he  been  a  "  sort  of  Grad- 
grind,"  a  man  "  wanting  nothing  but  facts,  who  knows 
that  two  and  two  make  four  and  nothing  more,"  he 
would  doubtless  have  been  satisfied  with  the  eccle- 
siastical compromise,  the  most  concrete  fact  of  his 


DETACHMENT  5 1 

age,  and  he  would  not  have  satirised  its  originators 
under  such  personages  as  Polonius  and  Shallow, 
or  its  ministers  in  the  figures  of  Sir  Topas  and 
Holofernes. 

It  is  strange,  indeed,  how  prejudice  may  blind 
the  eyes  of  otherwise  acute  critics  to  evident  fact. 
The  one  indisputable  characteristic  of  his  writings, 
as  manifested  in  his  dramas  and  poems,  is  his  deep 
discontent  with,  and  contempt  for,  the  world  in 
which  he  lived.  Reserved  as  he  is  about  himself, 
of  his  age  and  its  evils  he  speaks  openly.  The  most 
sacred  natural  ties  dissolved,  oppression,  falsehood, 
treachery,  ingratitude,  faith  forsworn,  imposture  tri- 
umphant, truth  and  goodness  held  captive — these 
are  the  main  features  of  his  portrait  of  his  times, 
and  their  originals  are  easily  recognised.  And  this 
is  the  poet  whom  we  are  told  to  regard,  not  as  a 
teacher  of  dry  dogma,  or  a  sayer  of  hard  sayings, 

but 

"  A  priest  to  us  all 

Of  the  wonder  and  bloom  of  the  world."  ^ 

Far  from  extolling  the  pride  and  pomp  of  earthly 
greatness,  no  poet  more  constantly  reminds  us  how 
soon  "  mightiness  meets  with  misery,"  that  this 
world  is  not  for  aye,  and  that  we  all  "  owe  a  death 
to  God."     How  solemnly  he  warns  us  that 

"  The  great  globe  itself, 
Yea.  all  which  it  inherit,  shall  dissolve  ; 
And,  like  this  insubstantial  pageant  faded, 
Leave  not  a  rack  behind." — Tempest,  iv.  i. 

*  Bagehot  in  Dowden,  "  Mind  and  Art,"  40. 


52        SHAKESPEARE   AND   THE   REFORMATION 

And  the  moral  is  drawn  with  the  same  sternness  and 
power — 

"  What  win  I,  if  I  gain  the  thing  I  seek  ? 
A  dream,  a  breath,  a  froth  of  fleeting  joy. 
Who  buys  a  minute's  mirth  to  wail  a  week, 
Or  sells  eternity  to  get  a  toy  1 " — Lucrece. 

And  this  contcmptus  ssecidi  ^  and  world- weariness 
grows  with  his  advancing  years.  Even  Professor  Dow- 
den,  who  paints  him  as  a  Positivist,  admits  that  the 
last  period  of  his  writings  shows  a  growing  disgust 
with  the  base  facts  of  this  life.  His  works  in  their 
usually  accepted  sequence  demonstrate  this.  The 
comedies  and  lighter  pieces,  together  with  the  Eng- 
lish historical  plays,  appear  before  1 600  ;  while  from 
1600  to  161 1  succeed  tragedies  of  the  most  solemn 
cast  and  dramas  of  more  or  less  tragic  colouring. 
But  while  his  writings  manifest  a  growing  serious- 
ness of  thought,  and  an  increased  conviction  of  the 
utter  vanity,  which  the  multitude  around  him  made 
their  sole  and  final  aim,  yet  he  is  never  a  pessi- 
mist, nor  ever  leaves  us  oppressed  with  a  sense  of 
morbid  or  sentimental  gloom.  With  him  the  tragic 
and  comic  were  so  marvellously  blended,  that  the 
darkest  scenes  of  woe  and  catastrophe  are  illumined 
with  rays  of  light,  while  the  lightest  pieces  are  not 

^  Mr.  George  Wyndham,  in  his  valuable  introduction  to  his 
edition  of  the  Poems  of  Shakespeare  (1898),  calls  special  attention 
to  the  world-V)reariness  manifested  in  the  Sonnets  (p.  Ixxviii),  and 
again  in  "Lucrece"  (p.  xcvii),  almost  Shakespeare's  earliest  work. 
But  we  have  tried  in  vain  to  agree  with  Mr.  Wyndham  that  the 
"Venus  and  Adonis"  "contains  nowhere  an  appeal  to  lust." 


USE    OF   COMEDY  53 

without  some  solemn  warnings.  Cordelia  relieves 
the  horrors  of  Lear,  and  Theseus  speaks  like  a  sage 
in  "  Midsummer-Night's  Dream." 

He  thus  teaches  again,  in  opposition  to  the  reform, 
that  man  himself  is  neither  wholly  bad  nor  wholly 
good,  but  "that  the  best  men  are  moulded  out  of 
faults,"  and  that  "the  web  of  our  life  is  a  mingled 
yarn  of  good  and  evil  together,"  which  serve  in  turn 
for  our  probation  and  support. 

Shakespeare's  use  of  comedy  served  yet  another 
purpose.  In  every  age  there  have  been  wolves  in 
sheep's  clothing,  and  we  do  not  forget  Chaucer's 
caricatures  of  the  Friars,  or  Boccaccio's  of  priests 
and  religious.  But  the  Reformation  produced,  as  its 
natural  child,  a  special  type  of  sanctimoniousness 
and  cant.  Religion  was  valueless  unless  it  appeared 
under  the  mask  of  sour  faces  and  Geneva  cloaks. 
Since  man's  soul  was  destitute  of  grace,  propriety 
took  the  place  of  holiness,  and  rigid  primness  and 
affected  solemnity  were  the  marks  of  the  elect. 

Now,  against  the  tyranny  of  a  religion  of  manner- 
ism, texts,  and  phrases,  Shakespeare's  irony  was  a 
most  effective  weapon.  Far  more  powerfully  than 
any  formal  polemic  does  his  treatment  of  FalstafF, 
Malvolio,  and  Holofernes  expose  the  hollowness  of  a 
system  productive  of  such  types.  He  taught  men  to 
laugh  at  the  solemn  pretentiousness,  and  to  despise 
the  wiles  and  hypocrisy  of  many  a  self-canonised 
saint.  But  at  what  was  truly  high,  noble,  or  pure, 
no  shaft  of  his  sarcasm  was  ever  winged.     In  this. 


54       SHAKESPEARE    AND   THE   REFORMATION 

as  in  so  many  other  points,  he  exhibits  a  close 
resemblance  to  the  Blessed  Thomas  More,  of  whom 
Shakespeare  speaks  with  deep  respect.  Both  show 
the  same  mixture  of  humour  and  sarcasm,  of  lightest 
wit  and  deepest  pathos ;  both  lived  in  antagonism  to 
their  times;  both  employed  their  marvellous  intel- 
lectual power  to  expose  its  abuses.  But  the  saintly 
Chancellor  had  the  courage  of  his  convictions,  and 
sealed  them  with  his  blood,  while  the  poet,  we  admit, 
kept  his  concealed. 

While,  however,  we  have  no  wish  to  ignore 
the  poet's  weakness  and  defects,  we  do  not  be- 
lieve that  he  was  ever  himself  reconciled  to  them. 
At  times  he  may  have  been  inclined  "  to  envy 
a  blessed  fellow  like  Poins,  who  thought  as  every 
one  else  thought,  and  whose  mind  was  always  in 
the  beaten  track " ;  but  he  was  in  reality  far  more 
like  Hal  than  Poins.  Like  the  madcap  Hal,  he  may 
have  given  rein  to  his  unruly  youth,  and  lived  only 
for  the  pleasures  of  the  hour.  But  like  Hal  also  he 
could  recognise  the  call  to  higher  things,  and  be  no 
longer  his  former  self.  The  motley  once  his  garb 
and  its  surroundings,  "  the  ready  nothing  trimmed 
in  jollity,"  were  to  him  a  reproach,  and  his  later 
years  of  solitude  and  seclusion  in  his  Midland  home, 
when  "  every  third  thought  was  to  be  his  grave," 
mark  the  contrast  with  his  youth.  That  death,  on 
which  he  so  often  ponders,  was  to  him  with  its  pangs 
and  horrors  a  fearful  thing,  but  to  die  unprepared 
was  vile.     "  Ripeness  is  all " ;  and  he  shows  us  in  all 


SECRET    OF   HIS   POWER  5  5 

his  penitents  how  that  ripeness  is  secured,  sin  for- 
given, and  heaven  won,  only  on  the  lines  of  Catholic 
dogma,  and  by  the  sacraments  of  the  Church ;  and 
there  is  evidence,  as  we  shall  see,  that  this  was  so  in 
his  own  case. 

Neither  from  single  texts  nor  isolated  phrases, 
but  from  the  whole  tenor  of  his  writings,  from  the 
principles  he  constantly  advocates,  from  the  chosen 
objects  of  his  praise  or  scorn,  we  arrive  at  the 
conclusion  that  the  greatest  of  English  poets  was 
not  the  product  of  the  Tudor  age,  nor  of  any  past 
media3val  system,  but  of  that  Catholicism  revealed 
and  divine  which  is  in  all  time.  And  herein  we 
believe  lies  the  secret  of  his  marvellous  power  and 
the  impenetrable  vitality  of  his  work. 


CHAPTER   II. 

EXTERNAL     EVIDENCE. 

We  found  our  argument  in  favour  of  Shakespeare's 
Catholicism  on  the  internal  evidence  offered  by  his 
writings.  Nevertheless,  as  it  has  been  urged  that 
Shakespeare  was  a  Protestant  on  the  ground  that 
his  parents  had  conformed  to  the  new  religion,  it 
will  not,  we  trust,  be  considered  out  of  place  if  we 
investigate  the  evidence  as  to  the  religion  of  the 
poet's  parents.  Of  those  that  maintain  the  con- 
formity to  the  new  order  of  Shakespeare's  parents, 
some  advance  no  better  proof  than  the  assumption 
that  as  under  Elizabeth  all  England  had  become 
Protestant  by  statute  law,  every  Englishman  must 
be  presumed  to  have  embraced  the  new  creed 
unless  evidence  be  produced  to  the  contrary. 

Let  us  consider  the  value  of  this  assumption. 
Macaulay  quotes  Cardinal  Bentivoglio's  "  State  of 
Religion  in  England "  as  well  deserving  attention : 
"  The  zealous  Catholics  Bentivoglio  reckoned  at  one 
thirtieth  part  of  the  nation.  The  people  who  would 
without  the  least  scruple  become  Catholics  if  the 
Catholic  religion  were  established,  he  estimated  at 

four -fifths    of   the    nation."       "  We   believe,"    says 

56 


VISITATION    RETURNS  57 

Macaulay,  "  this  account  to  have  been  very  near 
the  truth." -^  In  support  of  the  supposed  uni- 
versal and  instantaneous  conformity  of  England 
to  the  Keformed  religion,  the  Edinburgh  Reviewer 
uses  the  old  argument  of  the  Visitation- returns. 
"  Out  of  9,400  parochial  clergy,"  he  says,  re- 
ferring evidently  to  the  Visitation  of  1559,  "less 
than  200  refused  to  give  in  their  allegiance  to  the 
supremacy  of  the  Queen."  ^  Now,  these  records  still 
exist,  and  were  studied  and  analysed  by  Mr.  Simp- 
son, who  reports  as  follows:  Out  of  8,911  parishes 
and  9,400  beneficed  clergymen,  only  806  clergymen 
took  the  oath  of  supremacy ;  8  5  absolutely  refused. 
The  remaining  8,509  either  evaded  appearing,  or 
were  unsummoned  by  the  Commissioners. 

Thus  the  true  inference  from  these  returns  is 
exactly  the  contrary  to  that  which  is  commonly 
dra^vn.  Instead  of  its  being  true  that  only  an  in- 
significant fraction  of  the  clergy  held  aloof  from  the 
new  order  of  things,  the  fact  is  that  eight-tenths 
of  the  whole  did  not  take  the  oath,  many  of  them, 
indeed,  not  being  called  upon  to  do  so.  In  the 
province  of  York,  in  August  and  September  1559, 
to  give  a  single  instance  of  the  working  of  the  Com- 
mission, out  of  89  clergymen  summoned  to  take  the 
oath,  20  appeared  and  took  it,  36  came  and  refused 
to  take  it,  1 7  were  absent,  unrepresented  by  Proctors, 
while   16  sent  Proctors.^     Such  results  proved  the 

^  "  Critical  and  Historical  Essays  :  Burleigh  and  his  Times,"  230, 
ed.  1877.  2  YqI  cxxiii.  p.  147.  ^  Dom.  Eliz.,  vol.  x. 


58  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

futility  of  the  commission,  which  in  December  1559 
was  ordered  to  suspend  its  proceedings,  and  only 
terminate  cases  already  commenced.^ 

The  change  in  religion  was  indeed  effected  slowly 
and  gradually,  and  this  was  equally  the  case 
with  the  laity  and  clergy.  What  proportion  re- 
mained firm  it  is  very  hard  to  determine.  The 
position  of  Catholics  under  the  penal  laws  of 
Elizabeth  was  very  similar  to  that  of  Christians 
under  the  persecutions  of  Nero  and  Diocletian.  At 
neither  period  were  there  professed  Christians  or 
Catholics,  for  the  public  profession  of  the  Faith 
meant  grave  risk  of  life,  if  not  certain  death ;  and 
such  risk  might  not  be  voluntarily  incurred.  An 
individual  was  supposed  to  be  a  member  of  a 
proscribed  creed,  rather  from  his  abstaining  from 
any  participation  in  the  worship  ordained  by  the 
State,  and  from  his  family  antecedents,  friends, 
birthplace,  and  political  party,  than  from  any  overt 
religious  act.  As  the  first  Christians  practised 
their  faith  in  secret  when  opportunities  occurred, 
and  took  part  in  public  life  as  far  as  was  possible 
for  them  without  doing  violence  to  their  conscience, 
so  did  the  Elizabethan  Catholics.  And  the  temper 
of  the  rulers  in  both  periods  favoured  intervals  of 
comparative  truce;  for  men  of  tried  ability  and 
position  were  valuable  to  the  State,  and  were  worth 
winning,  if  position,  honour,  or  power  could  win 
them.  It  was  only  when  a  policy  of  persecution 
1  Dom.  Eliz.,  vol.  vii.  No.  79. 


RELIGION   IN    WARWICKSHIRE  59 

was  deemed  expedient,  that  a  formal  profession  of 
faith  was  demanded  with  the  alternative  of  apos- 
tasy or  death.  Thus  a  Sebastian  could  remain 
immolested  in  the  bodyguard  of  Diocletian,  and 
a  Howard  among  the  courtiers  of  Elizabeth,  till 
the  summons  to  the  tribunal  or  the  rack-chamber 
was  heard.  These  facts,  showing  the  condition 
of  Catholics  at  the  period  under  discussion,  must 
be  borne  in  mind,  if  we  are  to  estimate  rightly  the 
kind  of  historical  evidence  available  as  to  Shake- 
speare's religious  belief. 

That  evidence  will  be  necessarily,  as  a  rule,  cir- 
cumstantial, consisting  of  indications,  inferences, 
probabilities,  as  all  direct  external  proof  of  their 
religion,  whether  in  documents,  goods,  words,  or 
acts,  was  studiously  concealed  by  Catholics  during 
the  period  treated  of.  But  it  should  be  remembered 
that  while  with  direct  evidence  its  strength  is 
measured  by  its  weakest  link,  in  circumstantial 
evidence,  facts  which  taken  singly  are  of  no  appre- 
ciative value,  combined  together  may  produce  moral 
certitude. 

What  then  was  the  religious  condition  of  Strat- 
ford and  of  Warwickshire  in  the  sixteenth  century  ? 
The  most  prominent  institution  of  Stratford,  and  one 
which  tells  us  most  of  its  religious  history,  was  its 
Guild  of  the  Holy  Cross.^     "  The  Guild  has  lasted," 

1  The  following  particulars  of  the  Guild  are  taken  from  Halliwell, 
"Descriptive  Calendar  of  the  Records  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  1863," 
and  from  S.  Lee,  "Stratford-on-Avon  in  the  Time  of  the  Shake- 
speares." 


6o  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

wrote  the  chief  officer  in  1309,  "and  its  beginning 
was  from  time  whereunto  the  memory  of  man 
reacheth  not."  The  earliest  extant  documents  are 
from  the  reign  of  Henry  III.,  12 16- 1272,  and 
include  a  deed  of  gift  by  one  William  Sude  of  a 
tenement  to  the  Guild,  and  an  indulgence  granted 
October  7,  1270,  by  Giffard,  Bishop  of  Worcester,  of 
forty  days  to  all  "  sincere  penitents  who  had  duly 
confessed  and  had  conferred  benefits  on  the  Guild." 
By  the  close  of  the  reign  of  Edward  I.  (1307)  the 
Guild  was  wealthy  in  houses  and  lands,  and  the 
foundation  was  laid  of  its  chapel  and  almhouses, 
which,  with  the  hall  of  meeting,  the  "Rode"  or 
"  Reed  Hall,"  stood  where  the  Guildhall  is  at  this 
day.  In  1332  Edward  HI.  granted  the  Guild  a 
charter  confirming  its  rights.  They  were  again 
confirmed  by  Richard  II.  in  1384,  who  sent  com- 
missioners to  report  on  the  ordinances  of  all  the 
Guilds  throughout  England.  During  the  fifteenth 
century  the  Guild  increased  in  importance  and 
wealth.  Gifts  in  kind  are  recorded,  of  silver  cups, 
spoons,  chalices,  vestments,  missals,  statues  of  saints, 
wax ;  also  of  corn,  wine,  and  malt.  A  schedule  of 
1434  is  remarkable  for  the  numerous  and  costly 
offerings  registered.  In  148 1  the  Guild  acquired  the 
Rectory  and  Chapelry  of  Little  Wilmcote,  the  home 
of  the  Ardens  and  of  the  poet's  mother.  About 
the  close  of  the  century,  the  Guild  chapel  was  rebuilt 
by  Hugh  Clopton,  the  head  of  the  great  Catholic 
family  of  Stratford. 


ORDINANCES    OF   THE   GUILD  6 1 

This  marks  the  most  flourishing  epoch  in  the 
history  of  the  Guild.  Of  purely  local  origin,  its  fame 
had  now  spread  so  wide  as  to  attract  to  its  ranks 
noblemen  like  George,  Duke  of  Clarence,  brother  of 
Edward  IV.,  together  with  his  wife  and  children; 
the  Earl  of  Warwick  and  the  Lady  Margaret;  Sir 
Thomas  Littleton,  the  eminent  judge;  and  also 
merchants  of  towns  as  distant  as  Bristol  and  Peter- 
borough. 

We  now  come  to  the  objects  of  the  Guild  as  set 
forth  in  its  ordinances. 

The  first  object  was  mutual  prayer.  The  Guild 
maintained  (in  1444)  five  priests  or  chaplains  who 
were  to  say  five  masses  daily,  hour  by  hour,  from 
six  to  ten  o'clock.  They  were  to  live  in  one  house 
under  strict  discipline,  and  were  to  walk  in  pro- 
cession with  the  Guild  in  their  copes  and  surplices, 
with  crosses  and  banners.  Out  of  the  fees  of  the 
Guild,  one  wax  candle  was  to  be  kept  alight  every 
day  throughout  the  year  at  every  mass  in  the 
church,  before  the  blessed  cross,  "  so  that  God  and 
our  Blessed  Virgin  and  the  Venerated  Cross  may 
keep  and  guard  all  the  Brethren  and  Sisters  of  the 
Guilds  from  every  ill." 

A  second  object  was  mutual  charity  and  works  of 
mercy.  The  needs  of  any  brother  or  sister  who  had 
fallen  into  poverty  or  been  robbed  were  to  be  pro- 
vided for  "  as  long  as  he  bears  himself  rightly 
towards  the  Brethren.  When  a  Brother  died,  all 
the  Brethren  were  bound  to  follow  the  body  to  the 


62  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

church,  and  to  pray  for  his  soul  at  its  burial.  The 
Guild  candle  and  eight  smaller  ones  were  to  be 
kept  burning  by  the  body,  from  the  decease  till  the 
burial.  When  a  poor  man  died  in  the  town,  or  a 
stranger  without  means,  the  Brethren  and  Sisters 
were  '  for  their  souls'  health '  to  find  four  wax 
candles,  a  sheet,  and  a  hearse-cloth  for  the  corpse. 
Once  a  year,  in  Easter  week,  a  feast  was  held  for 
the  upholding  of  peace  and  true  brotherly  love. 
Offerings  of  ale  were  made  for  the  poor,  and  prayer 
was  offered  by  all  the  Brethren  and  Sisters,"  that 
"  God  and  our  Blessed  Virgin  and  the  Venerated 
Cross,  in  whose  honour  they  had  come  together,  will 
keep  them  from  all  ills  and  sins."  The  framers  of 
this  ordinance  evidently  believed  with  Corin — 

"  To  find  the  way  to  heaven 
By  doing  deeds  of  hospitality." 

— As  You  Like  It^  ii.  4. 

Thirdly,  the  Guild  provided  for  the  education  of 
the  young  by  establishing,  about  1453,  a  free 
grammar-school  for  the  children  of  the  members. 
The  schoolmaster  was  forbidden  to  take  anything 
from  the  children.  At  this  school,  as  reconstituted 
under  Edward  VI.,  the  poet  was  educated,  and  he 
has  given  us  a  picture  of  his  master  in  the  peda- 
gogues Holofernes  and  Sir  Hugh  Evans. 

Lastly,  the  Guild  was  a  self-governing  body 
founded  and  ruled  by  lay  persons  only,  the  clergy 
belonging  to  it  acting  solely  as  its  chaplains.     Its 


RELIGIOUS   DISCORD  63 

corporation  was  in  fact  the  sole  guardian  of  order 
in  the  town.  This  was  seen  when,  on  its  dissohi- 
tion  in  1547,  Stratford  found  itself  in  a  chaotic 
state  with  no  security  of  the  life  or  property  of  its 
inhabitants.  Hence  they  petitioned  Edward  VI.  to 
reconstitute  the  Guild  as  a  civil  corporation,  which 
he  did  by  charter  1553. 

The  history  of  this  Guild  shows  Stratford  both 
in  its  civil  and  religious  life  to  have  been  essen- 
tially a  Catholic  stronghold  doAvn  to  the  middle  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  and  its  traditions,  customs, 
ordinances,  and  observances  still  remaining  or  re- 
membered in  the  poet's  time  may  help  to  explain  his 
remarkable  familiarity  with  the  usages  and  ways  of 
the  ancient  faith. 

We  now  come  to  the  first  sign  of  religious  discord. 
We  will  begin  with  an  incident  which  occurred  in 
the  year  1537,  seven-and-twenty  years  before  the 
birth  of  Shakespeare,  and  some  fifteen  years  before 
his  father  had  removed  from  Snitterfield  into  Strat- 
ford, when  fierce  contests  about  the  doctrine  of  the 
Reformation  were  first  disturbing  the  rural  districts 
of  England.  On  Easter  Monday  of  that  year,  the 
sister  of  a  churchwarden  of  Bishop  Hampton  was 
married  to  a  substantial  man  of  Stratford,  and  the 
event  was  celebrated  with  a  church  ale.  Sir  Edward 
Large,  the  curate  of  Hampton,  "noted  for  one  of 
the  new  learning,  as  they  commonly  call  those  that 
preach  that  pure,  true,  and  sincere  word  of  God, 
and    also    all    that    favour   them    that   preach   the 


64  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

same,"  was  glad  of  the  opportunity  of  holding  forth 
to  a  crowd.  In  the  course  of  his  sermon  he  said 
divers  strange  things — some  probably  misunder- 
stood by  his  rustic  audience — that  "  all  those  that 
use  to  say  Our  Lady's  psalter  shall  be  damned;" 
and  that  the  Ember-days  were  instituted  by  "a 
Bishop  of  Rome  who  had  a  paramour  named  Imber, 
who  desired  that  she  might  have,  every  quarter, 
three  fasting  days ;  whence  the  said  Bishop  for 
her  sake  caused  the  fasting  days  to  be  had  which 
are  now  called  Ember-days."  A  poor  man  named 
Robert  Cotton  interrupted  the  preacher ;  for  which 
he  was  brought  before  the  king's  commissioners — 
William  Lucy,  John  Greville,  and  John  Combe — 
and  sent  to  gaol.  His  case  was  taken  up  by  Master 
Clapton  or  Clopton,  of  Stratford,  who  defended 
Cotton  so  vigorously  that  he  got  him  out  of  prison, 
and  brought  Lucy  into  trouble  both  with  the  men 
of  Stratford,  who  were  heartily  opposed  to  any 
innovations  in  religion,  and  with  Mr.  Justice  Fitz- 
herbert,  the  founder  of  the  family  that  still  per- 
petuates his  name  and  his  faith.^ 

Here  then  is  the  first  glimpse  we  get  of  the  state 
of  religious  feeling  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Strat- 
ford— on  the  one  side,  the  Lucys,  Grevilles,  and  the 
Coombes  of  Stratford  all  favouring  the  new  learning ; 
on  the  other,  the  Cloptons  and  the  men  of  Strat- 

1  The  document  from  which  these  facts  are  gleaned  was  published 
in  the  Athenxum  of  April  8,  1857,  from  the  original  in  the  RoUs- 
Ohapel  Record  Office. 


THE   poet's   parents  6$ 

ford  remaining  steadfast  in  the  old  ways.  Of  the 
neighbouring  families,  the  Catesbys,  the  Middlemores, 
the  Throckmortons,  the  Ardens,  were  Catholics ;  and 
of  the  last-named  family  came  Mary  Arden,  the 
poet's  mother;  and  this  brings  us  to  the  question 
of  the  religion  of  his  parents. 

There  were  numerous  families  of  Shakespeares 
in  various  parts  of  England,  especially  in  Warwick- 
shire, in  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries; 
and  there  were  two  John  Shakespeares,  one  a  glover 
and  the  other  a  shoemaker  or  corvizer,  in  Stratford 
at  the  same  time.  Our  poet's  father,  John  Shake- 
speare, the  glover,  and  later  a  wool  merchant, 
apparently  removed  from  Snitterfield  to  Stratford 
in  1 55 1,  and  in  1557  we  find  him  a  Burgess  of 
Stratford,  and  in  1558-59  one  of  the  four  petty 
constables  for  the  town.  This  tenure  of  municipal 
office  by  him  in  1557-59,  when  the  laws  against 
heretics  were  rigidly  enforced,  is  our  first  direct  evi- 
dence of  his  Catholicism.  Mr.  Carter,  in  fact,  says, 
speaking  of  Robert  Perrot,  then  High  Bailiff  of 
Stratford,  that  none  but "  an  ardent  and  pronounced 
Roman  Catholic  "  ^  could  have  accepted  so  high  an 
office  in  times  of  bitter  persecution  under  a  most 
bigoted  king  and  queen.  He,  however,  entirely 
overlooks  the  fact  that  the  same  reasoning  must 
apply  proportionately  to  the  other  members  of  the 
corporation  at  this  date,  among  whom  we  find,  be- 
sides John  Shakespeare,  John  Wheeler,  his  constant 

^  Ibid.,  p.  20. 


^^  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

associate  in  his  various  vicissitudes.  The  poet's 
mother  was,  as  has  been  said,  Mary  Arden  of  Wilm- 
cote  in  Snitterfield,  of  an  old  and  stanch  Catholic 
stock,  and  through  her  he  was  connected  with  the 
Montagues  (Browne),  Catesbys,  Throckmortons,  lead- 
ing Catholic  families,  and  distantly  with  Henry,  the 
Earl  of  Southampton,  the  poet's  munificent  friend 
and  patron.^ 

Mrs.  John  Shakespeare,  then,  was  undoubtedly  a 
Catholic ;  nor  is  there  any  proof  that  she  ever 
changed  her  rehgion,  though  Mr.  Carter  pictures 
her  as  a  strict  Puritan,  teaching  her  son  William 
the  Holy  Scriptures  from  the  Genevan  Bible. 
But  did  John  Shakespeare,  who,  if  Mr.  Carter's 
reasoning  be  valid,  must  have  been  a  Catholic 
under  Mary,  become  a  Protestant  under  Elizabeth  ? 
It  is  argued  that  he  must  have  done  so,  inas- 
much as  he  continued  to  hold  various  municipal 
offices  up  to  1 5  7 1 ,  when  the  Oath  of  Supremacy, 
passed  1559,^  was  in  force.  But,  as  we  have 
seen  in  the  case  of  the  clergy,  it  is  one  thing  to 
pass    a    new   enactment,   another    to    carry  it  out. 

^  Mary  Arden  was  descended  from  Thomas,  a  brother  of  Sir  John 
Arden  {6b.  1526),  esquire  of  the  body  to  Henry  VII.  ;  from  whom 
came  Edward  Arden  of  Parkhall,  not  far  from  Snitterfield,  who 
was  married  to  Mary,  daughter  of  Sir  George  and  sister  of  Sir 
Robert  Throckmorton  of  Coughton,  and  consequently  aunt  of  Sir 
Robert's  daughter,  the  wife  of  Sir  William  Catesby  of  Bushwood 
Park  in  Stratford.  Anne,  the  daughter  of  Lady  Catesby,  was  married 
to  Sir  Henry  Browne,  son  of  the  first  Lord  Montague;  and  Sir 
Henry  Browne's  sister  Mary  was  Countess  of  Southampton  and 
mother  of  Henry,  Earl  of  Southampton. 

2  I  Eliz.  c.  I. 


OATH    OF   SUPREMACY  6^] 

At  first  the  lay  peers  were  exempt  from  taking 
the  oath,  which  was  aimed  specially  at  the  bishops 
and  clergy,  and  it  was  not  till  1579  that  it 
was  required  of  the  justices ;  and  in  Warwickshire, 
out  of  thirty  magistrates,  Sir  John  Throckmorton, 
Simon  Arden,  and  eight  others  refused  to  be  thus 
sworn.  Up  to  1579,  then,  one  third  of  the  magis- 
trates of  Warwickshire  were  Catholics.  There  is 
no  proof  whatever  that  John  Shakespeare  ever  had 
the  oath  of  supremacy  tendered  to  him  as  a  quali- 
fication for  his  municipal  office.  On  the  contrary, 
it  is  in  the  highest  degree  improbable  that  the 
Sheriff  of  the  County  (1568-69),  Robert  Middle- 
more,  himself  a  recusant,  should  have  administered 
to  him  an  oath  which  he  refused  to  take  himself. 
As  regards  the  oath  of  supremacy,  then,  there  is  no 
valid  argument  for  John  Shakespeare's  Protestantism 
during  these  years. 

Mr.  Carter  argues  that  the  Protestantism  of  John 
Shakespeare  is  sufficiently  proved  by  the  fact  that 
he  remained  a  member  of  the  Corporation,  which 
under  Elizabeth  became  strongly  Puritan,  as  is  seen, 
he  says,  by  the  defacement  of  crosses,  images,  and 
the  sale  of  vestments  effected  under  their  rule. 

Let  us  consider  the  value  of  this  argument.  In 
Elizabeth's  first  parliament  Mass  was  suppressed 
throughout  the  kingdom,  and  by  the  Queen's  in- 
junction (1559),  all  shrines  and  altar-candlesticks, 
pictures,  &c.,  were  to  be  destroyed  "  so  that  not  a 
memory  of  them  remains,"  and  inventories  of  the 


68  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

vestments,  plate,  and  books  were  to  be  given  to  the 
visitors.  These  measures  were  universally  carried 
out.  But  though  shrines  and  altars  were  muti- 
lated and  desecrated,  and  the  churches  had  become 
"  barns,"  Protestantism  only  slowly  made  its  way. 
With  equal  violence  Catholicism  had  been  sup- 
pressed under  Edward  VI.  to  be  reintroduced  four 
years  later  under  Mary.  Nor  did  the  mass  of 
the  people  know  now  what  the  new  creed  meant, 
or  whither  it  would  lead.  It  must  further  be 
remembered  that  for  the  first  years  of  her  reign, 
before  the  northern  rising  (1569)  and  the  excom- 
munication of  Elizabeth  by  Pius  V.  (i  570),  Catholics, 
apart  from  the  open  exercise  of  their  religion,  were 
comparatively  tolerated.  "  Until  the  eleventh  year 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,"  writes  Sir  Robert  Cotton,  "a 
recusant's  name  was  scarcely  known."  ^  So,  too. 
Parsons  and  Creswell  write  to  the  Queen :  "  In  the 
beginning  of  thy  kingdom  thou  didst  deal  some- 
thing more  gently  with  Catholics.  None  were  then 
urged  by  thee,  or  pressed  either  to  thy  sect  or  to 
the  denial  of  their  Faith.  All  things  did  seem  in- 
deed to  point  to  a  far  milder  course.  No  great 
complaints  were  heard.  Then  were  seen  no  extra- 
ordinary contentions  or  repugnancies.  Some  there 
were  that  to  please  and  gratify  you  went  to  your 
churches."  ^ 

In  fact,  Elizabeth,  as  long  as  she  could  usurp 

1  "Posthuma,"  149(1651). 

-  Watson's  "  Important  Considerations,"  1601. 


RELIGION    IN   STRATFORD  69 

unquestioned,  the  Church's  authority  and  appro- 
priate its  goods,  was  content  to  let  things  be.  And 
CathoUcs,  it  must  be  said,  whether  in  good  or  bad 
faith,  offered  no  opposition.  "  The  majority,"  writes 
Father  Parsons,  "  attended  the  heretical  church  and 
services,  opinions  being  divided  on  the  subject."  ^ 
The  priests  who  had  conformed  and  publicly  cele- 
brated the  "  spurious  liturgy,"  said  Mass  in  private 
for  the  benefit  of  the  more  faithful  Catholics,  and 
would  even  bring  consecrated  hosts  to  the  public 
service  to  communicate  those  who  would  not  receive 
the  bread  prepared  according  to  the  heretical  rite.  ^ 
"  It  was  indeed  a  mingle-mangle  which  every  man 
made  at  his  pleasure,  as  he  thought  would  be  most 
grateful  to  the  people."  ^ 

Thus  the  fact  that  John  Shakespeare  was  a 
member  of  the  Corporation  of  Stratford  during  this 
period  proves  absolutely  nothing  as  to  his  change  of 
religion.  On  the  contrary  there  are  strong  indica- 
tions that  the  Corporation  of  Stratford  was  far  more 
inclined  to  Catholicism  than  to  Puritanism  at  this 
time.  First,  John  Brethgirdle,  the  vicar  appointed 
on  February  27,  1560,  in  succession  to  Roger  Dios, 
the  Marian  priest,  was  both  unmarried  and  had  no 
licence  to  preach ;  the  Bishop  of  Worcester  appa- 
rently being  unsatisfied  as  to  his  orthodoxy.  Both 
these  facts  point  to  the  probability  of  his  having 

1  "Brief  Apologie,"  2. 

2  Sander's  "  Anglican  Schism,"  269. 

3  Parsons,  "Three  Conversions  of  England,"  11.  2c6,  ed.  1688. 


70  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

been  one  of  the  numerous  conforming  priests.  In 
any  case,  as  he  had  no  licence  to  preach,  the  new 
doctrines  must  have  made  but  Httle  progress  up  to 
June  1565,  when  he  died  from  his  labours  in  the 
plague/  From  1565  to  1569  Stratford  was  appa- 
rently without  a  vicar.  In  1569  Henry  Hey  croft 
was  appointed,  but  he  again  had  no  licence  to 
preach  till  January  7,  1 5  7 1 ,  when,  as  we  shall  see, 
a  change  began.  From  all,  then,  that  can  be 
gathered  from  the  registers,  Stratford  never  heard 
a  sermon  for  eleven  years ;  and  John  Shakespeare's 
ears  were  unassailed  during  this  period  by  the 
eloquence  of  any  Puritan  Boanerges. 

But  Mr.  Carter  quotes  the  sale  of  church  vest- 
ments by  the  Corporation  as  an  additional  proof 
of  John  Shakespeare's  Puritanism.  Now,  the  time 
and  manner  in  which  the  Queen's  injunctions  on 
this  subject  were  carried  out  in  any  place,  offer  a 
fair  indication  of  the  state  of  religious  feeling  then 
prevalent.  In  London,  for  instance,  where  the 
Puritan  feeling  was  strong,  at  St.  Bartholomew's 
Fair,  August  24,  1559,  or  within  a  few  months  of 
the  issue  of  the  injunction,  there  were  blazing  in 
St.  Paul's  Churchyard  two  great  bonfires  for  three 
whole  days,  of  church  furniture  and  vestments.^ 
Again,   at  St.  Mary's,  Woolnote,  in  the  same  year 

^  His  will,  made  the  day  before  his  death,  of  which  we  have  seen 
a  copy  by  the  courtesy  of  Mr.  Savage,  Librarian  of  the  Shakespeare 
Memorial  Library,  Stratford,  gives  no  indication  of  his  religious 
belief. 

2  "Maehyn  Diary,"  207,  208.     Stow,  640. 


JOHN  Shakespeare's  reverses         71 

(1559X  the  copes,  vestments,  and  ornaments  were 
sold  with  consent.  Again,  at  St.  Martin's,  Leicester, 
in  I  561,  the  vestments  were  sold  for  42s.  6d.^  In 
contrast  with  this  prompt  action,  we  find  that  the 
vestments  at  Stratford  were  not  sold  till  September 
I  5  7 1 ,  and  their  sale  then  coincides  with  the  con- 
cession of  a  preaching  licence  to  Heycroft,  and  was 
probably  due  to  his  newly  kindled  zeal.  Thus,  as 
far  as  this  sale  proves  anything,  its  late  date  points 
to  the  predominance  of  a  Catholic  rather  than  of  a 
Puritan  element  in  Stratford  up  to  1570.  In  that 
year  a  new  penal  statute  against  Catholics,  Elizabeth's 
answer  to  the  excommunication,  was  passed.  By  this 
act,  reconciliation  to  the  Roman  faith  was  made  a 
capital  offence ;  any  person  harbouring  any  one  hold- 
ing any  Bull  or  instrument  from  Rome  became  guilty 
of  treason,  and  the  possession  of  crosses,  pictures, 
beads,  or  an  Agnus  Dei  blessed  by  the  Pope  or  his 
authority,  incurred  forfeiture  of  all  goods  and  im- 
prisonment.^ Such  a  measure  evidently  rendered 
Catholics  subject  to  continuous  and  harassing  perse- 
cution, and  from  the  date  of  its  enactment  the  fortune 
of  John  Shakespeare  appears  to  decline.  In  i  5  7  5  he 
begins  to  sell  and  mortgage  his  property.  In  i  5  7  7  he 
was  assessed  at  a  lower  rate  than  the  other  alder- 
men. In  1578  he  was  not  rated  for  the  poor  at 
all.  In  1579  his  name  occurs  among  the  defaulters 
for  the  armour  and  weapon  tax,  and  in  the  Spring 

^  Churchwarden  Accounts  ;  Month,  December  1897. 
2  13  Eliz.  c.  2. 


72  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

of  the  same  year  he  mortgaged  the  revenue  of  his 
wife's  property  to  one  of  her  relations  for  ;^40,  and 
sold  some  of  his  property  at  Snitterfield  for  £4. 
These  facts  may  point  to  real  losses  in  trade  or  to 
a  practice  common  with  suspected  recusants,  by 
which,  to  escape  from  the  grasp  of  the  penal  laws, 
they  conveyed  their  property  to  trustworthy  persons 
by  colourable  mortgages  and  sales,  while  retaining 
themselves  the  income.  The  latter  supposition 
seems  to  us  far  the  more  probable.  First,  because 
of  the  small  sums  received  for  the  large  amount  of 
property  parted  with ;  again,  because  he  was  em- 
ployed as  trustee  for  valuable  property  during  the 
time  of  his  alleged  poverty;  and  lastly  and  prin- 
cipally because  a  few  years  later  he  was  presented, 
as  we  shall  see,  for  the  second  time  as  a  recusant. 

His  civic  life  during  the  last-named  period  shows 
similar  symptoms  of  decline.  From  1570  to  1586 
he  continued  to  hold  his  post  as  alderman.  But 
after  1577  there  were  long  periods  of  absence  till 
September  1586,  when  we  read  that  two  others 
were  chosen  "in  the  places  of  John  Wheeler  and 
John  Shakespeare;  for  that  Mr.  Wheeler  doth  desire 
to  be  put  out  of  the  Company,  and  Mr.  Shakespeare 
doth  not  come  to  the  halls  when  they  be  warned, 
nor  hath  done  of  any  long  time."  Thus  closed  his 
connection  with  the  Corporation,  and  the  reason  of 
his  continued  absence  and  final  retirement  is  fur- 
nished for  us  by  the  next  document  we  have  to 
examine — the  Recusancy-returns  for  Warwickshire 


THE   RECUSANCY   RETURNS  73 

of  September  25,  1592.  The  certificate  still  exists 
at  the  Record  Office,  and  we  shall  discuss  it  at  some 
length,  both  because  it  has  now  become  contentious 
matter  and  also  because  it  manifests  the  state  of 
religion  in  Warwickshire. 

The  list  of  recusants  in  which  John  Shakespeare's 
name  appears  Mr.  Carter  classes  with  remarkable 
audacity,  as  we  think  will  be  shown,  among  "  Puri- 
tan Recusancy-returns,"  ^  and  he  founds  on  it  what 
he  considers  another  convincing  argument  of  John 
Shakespeare's  Puritanism.  Mr.  Carter  argues  that 
this  return  included  Puritan  as  well  as  Catholic 
recusants,  because  the  Commissioners,  Sir  Thomas 
Lucy  and  others,  who  furnished  it  were  appointed 
under  the  Recuscancy  Act  of  1592  ;^  and  this  Act 
was  aimed  specially  against  Puritan  Nonconfor- 
mists.^ Let  us  examine  both  these  statements  and 
see  against  whom  the  Act  was  directed,  and  also 
its  date  and  that  of  the  Warwickshire  Recusancy- 
retura 

First,  then,  against  whom  was  this  Act  (3  5  Eliz.  c.  i ) 
directed  ?  The  fanatical  outbreak  of  Hackett  and  his 
associates,  following  on  the  Marprelate  tracts,  called 
for  this  measure.  "The  law  was  chiefly  aimed," 
writes  Marsden,  "  against  Brownists  and  Barrowists. 
Cartwright  and  such  as  he,  who  still  conformed,  were 
not  affected  by  it."  *  Now,  Mr.  Carter  assumes  John 
Shakespeare  to  have  been  a  devout  follower  of  Cart- 

^  p.  179.  ^  pp.  160,  161.  '  p.  152. 

*  "History  of  the  Early  Puritans,"  204  (1850). 


74  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

Wright,  and  imagines  him  walking  over  Smiday  after 
Sunday  from  Stratford  to  hear  him  preach  in  the 
Leycester  Hospital  at  Warwick.^  If  this  were  so, 
the  presumption  is  that  in  1592  John  Shakespeare 
would  have  followed  his  master's  example,  and  by  his 
conformity  have  escaped  persecution  as  a  recusant. 
"  The  moderate  Puritans,"  says  Neale,  "  made  a 
shift,  to  avoid  the  force  of  this  law,  by  coming  to 
church  when  common  prayer  was  almost  over,  and 
by  receiving  the  Sacrament  in  some  church  where 
it  was  administered  with  some  latitude,  but  the 
weight  of  it  fell  upon  the  Separatists.  These  were 
called  Brownists  and  Barrowists."  ^ 

Secondly,  although  the  Act  35  Eliz.  c.  i,  as  first 

^  p.  170.  It  is  diflScult  indeed  to  follow  Mr.  Carter  in  his  his- 
torical researches.  He  explains  that  Cartwright  was  thus  able  to 
preach  at  Warwick  on  his  return  from  exile  in  Antwerp  (1585), 
because  "The  Leycester  Hospital  was  exempt  from  episcopal 
jurisdiction,  and  Cartwright  could  preach  there  without  a  bishop's 
licence  and  in  defiance  of  all  ecclesiastical  deprivation."  ^  As  a 
fact,  so  far  from  this  hospital  being  exempt  from  episcopal  juris- 
diction, the  Bishop  of  Worcester  was  appointed  its  visitor,'^  and 
used  his  power.  He  summoned  him  (Cartwright)  in  the  Consistory 
Court,  and  charged  him  with  instilling  the  peculiarities  of  Genevan 
churchmanship.3  Cartwright  was,  however,  allowed  to  return  to 
Warwick,  where  he  wrote  a  treatise  against  the  Brownists.  In 
1590,  Leicester  his  patron  died,  and  Cartwright  was  shortly  after 
summoned  before  the  Court  of  High  Commission,  and  eventually 
committed  to  the  Fleet,  where  he  remained  till  Burghley  obtained 
him  his  release  about  May  1592. 

2  «  History  of  Puritans,"  i.  362. 

^  Ibid,,  p.  169. 

2  Art.  Cartwright,  Diet.  Nat.  Biography. 

*  Marsden,  "  Early  Puritans,"  173. 


DATE    OF   THE   COMMISSION  75 

introduced  was,  according  to  its  preamble,  aimed 
against  "such  as  are  enemies  to  our  State  and 
adherents  of  the  Pope,^  yet  as  finally  passed  it 
expressly  excluded  Papists  from  its  operation.  The 
twelfth  article  of  35  Eliz.  c.  i  runs — "Provided 
also  that  no  Papist  recusant  or  Femme  coverte  shall 
be  compelled  to  abjure  by  reason  of  this  act."^  It 
is  clear  then,  from  the  very  wording  of  the  Act,  not 
only  that  it  does  not  intend  to  include  Papists  in  its 
operation,  but  that  it  expressly  and  distinctly  ex- 
cludes them.  How  then  can  Mr.  Carter  ascribe  to 
the  operation  of  this  Act  "  the  Warwickshire  Recu- 
sancy-returns, in  which  no  denomination  but  those 
of  Papists  is  named." 

Thirdly,  as  regards  its  date,  the  Act  in  question, 
entitled,  "An  Act  to  retain  the  Queen's  (Majesty) 
subjects  to  their  due  obedience,"  was  the  first  act 
of  the  thirty-fifth  year  of  Elizabeth.  The  Parliament 
which  passed  it  only  sat  three  months,  from  February 
19,  1592,  till  April  Id,  1593.'^  On  the  other  hand, 
the  return  of  the  Commissioners  for  Warwickshire  is 
dated  in  the  heading  "25  September,  in  the  thirty- 
fourth  year  of  her  Majesty's  most  happy  reign,"  or 
1592.  We  must  therefore  leave  Mr.  Carter  to  explain 
how  the  Warwickshire  Commissioners  were  appointed 
by  an  Act  of  Parliament  passed  five  months  after  they 


^  D.  Ewes,  "Journal  of  Parliament,"  500  (1682). 
'  The  statutes  at  larg-e  from  Edward  IV.  to  end  of  Elizabeth,  ii. 
671,  ed.  1770. 
'  Ibid.,  p.  671. 


^6  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

had  sent  in  their  return.  He  has  failed  to  realise 
that  as,  according  to  the  old  style,  the  year  1592 
began  on  25th  March,  September  1592  was  four 
months  earlier  than  February  of  the  same  year, 
which  ended  March  24.^ 

What  then  was  in  reality  the  origin  and  purpose 
of  the  Warwickshire  Commission  ? 

In  October  i  5  9 1  Elizabeth,  in  reality  alarmed  at 
the  conversions  effected  by  the  missionaries  from 
abroad,  but  avowedly  to  frustrate  another  appre- 
hended attack  by  Spain,  issued  a  proclamation  stat- 
ing the  traitorous  intrigues  on  hand,  and  directing 
the  appointment  of  Commissioners  for  each  shire. 
These  Commissioners  were  charged  to  inquire  of 
all  persons  as  to  their  attendance  at  church,  their 
receiving  of  seminarists,  priests,  and  Jesuits,  their 
devotion  to  the  Pope  or  King  of  Spain,  and  to  give 
information  as  to  suspicious  change  of  residence.^ 

In  accordance  with  this  proclamation  Commis- 
sioners were  appointed,  and  we  find  notices  of  their 
appointment  and  documents  relating  to  the  Com- 
mission for  the  following  counties :  Durham,^ 
Oxford,*  Hampshire,^  Surrey  and  Dorsetshire,^  Kent, 
Middlesex,  Surrey,  Bucks,  and  Durham,  "  for  adding 
to  Commission,"  ^  Notts,  Salop,  Norfolk,  Cambridge, 

^  The  old  style  prevailed  in  English  history  up  to  September  2, 
1752  (De  Morgan,  "Book  of  Almanacks,"  Introd.,  ix.). 

2  Dom.  Eliz.,  ccxl.  42,  October  18,  1591. 

3  Ibid,,  66,  November  1591.  ^  Ibid.,  70,  November  1591. 
^  Ibid.,  82,  December  1591.  ^  Ibid.,  84,  December  1591. 
'i  Dom.  Eliz.,  ccxli.  17,  January  1592. 


SEARCH   FOR   PAPISTS  77 

Herts,  and  the  Isle  of  Ely/  East,  West,  and  North 
Ridings  of  Yorkshire,  Northumberland — renewed,^ 
Cheshire,  Lancashire.^ 

The  State  Papers,  Dom.  Eliz.  ccxL,  ccxii.,  ccxliii., 
and  the  Hist.  MS.  Com.  Salisbury,  P.  IV.,  show  clearly 
that  during  the  year  November  1 5  9 1  -November 
1592,  the  country  was  sifted  and  searched  for  the 
discovery  of  Papists.  One  list  of  names  in  nineteen 
counties*  contains  570  names,  entirely  of  laymen, 
and  includes  nearly  all  the  old  Catholic  families  of 
those  counties.  In  some  counties  more  than  one 
Commission  was  held.  This  was  the  case  in  War- 
wickshire. The  return  before  us  is  entitled  "The 
second  certificate  of  the  Commissioners,  &c."  Of  the 
first  certificate  no  trace  is  as  yet  apparent.  At  the 
head  of  the  second  Commission  are  Sir  Thomas 
Lucy  and  Sir  Fulke  Greville,  both  active  persecutors 
of  the  Papists,  and  the  lineal  descendants  of  those 
very  men  whom  we  have  seen  in  1557  imprisoning 
Robert  Cotton  for  defending  the  ancient  faith. 

The  document,  in  modernised  spelling,  runs  as 
follows: — "The  second  certificate  of  the  Commis- 
sioners for  the  county  of  Warwickshire  touching 
all  persons  ...  as  either  have  been  presented  to 
them,  or  have  been  otherwise  found  out  by  the 
endeavour  of  the  said  Commissioners  to  be  Jesuits, 

1  Dom.  Eliz.,  ccxli.  40,  February  1592. 

2  Ibid.,  89,  March  1592. 

'  Hist.  MSS.  Com.  Salisbury,  Part  IV.  p.  240,  October  1592  ;  Dom. 
Eliz.,  ccxliii.  52,  November  1592. 

■*  Hist.  MSS.  Com.  Salisbury,  Part  IV.  p.  263-275,  October  1592. 


78  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

seminary  priests,  fugitives,  or  recusants,  witliin  the 
said  County  of  Warwick,  or  vehemently  suspected 
to  be  such,  together  with  a  true  note  of  so  many 
of  them  as  are  already  indicted  for  their  obstinate 
and  wilful  persisting  in  their  recusancy.  Set  down 
at  Warwick  the  25  th  day  of  September  in  the  34th 
year  of  her  Majesty's  most  happy  reign,  and  sent 
up  to  the  lordships  of  her  Majesty's  most  honour- 
able Privy  Council." 

It  is  divided  into  five  lists.  The  first  list  contains 
the  names  of  those  who  have  been  indicted  for 
persisting  in  their  recusancy.  Among  these  ob- 
stinate recusants  are  Dinmock,  a  relation  of  the 
Catesbys,  and  champion  of  England,  the  whole 
family  of  Middlemore  of  Edgbaston  (here  we  have 
the  father,  mother,  two  sons,  and  two  daughters  all 
indicted) ;  Mountfort  of  Coleshall,  the  place  fre- 
quented by  the  Martyr  Monford  Scott  ;  Bolt 
and  Gower  of  Tamworth;  Thomas  Bates,  steward 
to  Sir  William  Catesby  of  Bushwood  Park  in 
Stratford  parish,  who  with  his  son  John  was 
afterwards  compromised  with  Robert  Catesby  in 
the  Gunpowder  Plot ;  Richard  Dibdale  of  Stratford, 
who  had  been  formerly  presented  for  a  wilful 
recusant,  and  "  continues  still  obstinate  in  his 
recusancy  " — probably  a  relation  of  Richard  Dibdale, 
the  martyr,  hanged  for  his  priesthood  in  1586. 
Other  obstinate  Papists  of  Stratford  were  Mrs. 
Jeffreys  and  Richard  Jones.  There  is  a  long  cata- 
logue from  Rowington.     At   Coughton,  Mrs.  Mary 


LISTS   OF   RECUSANTS  79 

Arden,  the  widow  of  the  martyred  squire  of 
Parkhall,  with  her  servants  "continues  obstinate." 
At  Exhall  we  meet  with  one  William  Page,  who 
had  not  been  to  church  for  three  months  past  at 
least.  A  whole  batch  of  Huddesfords  and  others 
from  Solyhill  are  dismissed  on  submitting  to  the 
articles  of  the  Commission  and  their  declaration 
that  they  neither  had  been  moved  to  give  aid  to 
the  King  of  Spain  or  the  Pope.  In  this  list  several 
persons  are  noted  as  having  become  recusants  since 
the  last  presentment,  a  fact  which  shows  the  revival 
of  the  Faith  in  Warwickshire  during  the  months 
immediately  preceding  this  second  Commission. 

The  second  list  contains  the  names  "  of  such 
dangerous  and  seditious  Papists  and  recusants  as 
have  been  presented  to  us,  or  found  out  by  our 
endeavour  to  have  been  at  any  time  of,  or  in  the 
county  of  Warwickshire,  and  are  now  either  beyond 
the  seas  or  vagrants  within  the  realm."  This  list 
contains  chiefly  the  names  of  priests :  "  William 
Brooks,  thought  to  be  a  seditious  seminary  priest, 
sometime  servant  to  Campion  in  the  Tower.  His 
friends  give  him  out  to  be  dead,  but  it  is  thought 
that  he  is  lurking  in  England."  "Barlow,  an  old 
priest  and  great  persuader,  who  uses  to  travel  in  a 
blue  coat  with  the  eagle  and  child  on  his  sleeve," 
as  retainer  to  the  Stanleys ;  another,  "  suspected  to 
be  a  lewd  seditious  Papist,  wanders  about  under 
colour  of  tricking  out  arms  in  churches."  At 
Stratford  there  was  George  Cook,  suspected  to  be 


8o  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

a  seminary  priest,  wlio  could  not  be  found.  At 
Henley-in-Arden,  Sir  Robert  Whateley,  and  at 
Rowington,  Sir  John  Appletree,  both  old  "  massing 
priests."  The  same  list  contains  the  names  of  Dr. 
William  Bishop,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Chalcedon, 
and  his  father  and  brother,  and  of  Dr.  Barrett, 
who  were  also  Warwickshire  men. 

The  third  list  contains  "the  names  of  recusants 
heretofore  presented  in  the  county,  but  now  dwell- 
ing elsewhere,  or  gone  away  on  just  occasion,  or 
lurking  unknown  in  other  counties."  Here  we  have 
a  short  history  of  long  hardships.  "Mrs.  Francis 
Willoughby,  presented  first  at  Kingsbury,  afterwards 
at  Stratford -on- Avon,  then,  indicted  at  Warwick, 
now  fled  to  Leicestershire;  the  Middlemores,  fled 
from  Packwood  to  Worcestershire;  John  Buswell, 
fled  from  Stratford;  the  wife  of  Philip  Moore, 
physician  of  Stratford,  gone  away  to  Evesham ; " 
and  "  one  Bates,  a  virginal  player,  a  most  wilful 
recusant,  now,  as  is  said,  in  Staffordshire." 

The  fourth  list  contains  "  the  names  of  recusants 
heretofore  presented,"  who  are  thought  to  forbear 
the  Church  for  "debt  and  fear  of  process  or  for 
some  worse  faults,  or  for  age,  sickness,  or  impotency 
of  body."  In  this  list  we  have  nine  persons 
bracketed  together  as  not  coming  to  Church  for 
fear  of  debt,  "  Mr.  John  Wheeler,  John  Wheeler  his 
son,  Mr.  John  Shakespeare,  Mr.  Nicholas  Barnes- 
hurst,  Thomas  James,  alias  Giles,  William  Bainton, 
Richard  Harrington,  William  Fluellen,  and  George 


THE   PLEA   OF   DEBT  8l 

Bardolph — all  supposed  to  abstain  from  Church  for 
fear  of  process  for  debt ;  Mrs.  Jeffreys,  widow,  Mrs. 
Barber,  Julian  Court,  Griffin  ap  Roberts,  Joan  Welch, 
and  Mrs.  Wheeler,  who  all  continue  recusants  except 
the  last,  but  who  are  too  infirm  to  come  to  Church." 
This  list  Mr.  Carter  seriously  asserts  to  be  composed 
of  Puritan  not  Papist  recusants ;  for  "  Papists,"  he 
says,  "were  persecuted  for  being  Papists,  not  for 
forbearing  attendance  at  the  Parish  Church."  ^ 

Now  we  have  seen  that  the  first  act  of  parlia- 
ment above  recited,  which  Lucy  s  Commission  was 
charged  to  carry  out,  was  framed  solely  to  enforce 
the  attendance  of  Papists  at  church,  under  the  fine 
of  ;^20  a  month  for  nonconformity,  and  the  plea 
of  sickness  or  poverty  was  the  stereotyped  excuse 
with  nonconforming  Papists  to  escape  the  fine.  Thus 
Bishop  Cheney  (or  Cheyney)  of  Gloucester,  in  a 
return  of  recusants  furnished  by  him  to  the  Council, 
October  24,  1577,  divides  the  recusants  of  his 
diocese  into  three  classes.  First,  those  who  refused 
to  come  to  church,  or  open,  obstinate  recusants; 
secondly,  some  supposed  to  savour  of  Papistry  alleged 
sickness,  some  others  debt,  and  therefore  refused, 
fearing  process;  the  third  sort,  commonly  called 
Puritans,  refuse,  as  not  liking  the  surplice.^  Here 
then  it  is  Papists,  not  Puritans,  who  allege  the  ex- 
cuse of  debt,  for  the  latter  were  only  too  willing  to 
express  their  repugnance  to  anything  in  their  eyes 

1  Hist.  MSS.  Com.  Salisbury,  Part  IV.  p.  164. 
'  Dom.  Eliz.,  vol.  cxvii.,  October  24,  1577,  No.  12. 

F 


82  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

savouring  of  Papistry.  Now  in  this  fourth  list  we 
know,  that  of  the  nine  persons  bracketed  together, 
John  Shakespeare  and  John  Wheeler  were  Catholics, 
for  they  held  office  under  Mary ;  and  the  very  first 
entry  in  this  fourth  list  shows  that  it  is  still  Papists, 
not  Puritans,  who  are  aimed  at.  It  runs  thus — 
"  Thomas  Bartlett  of  Middleton,  presented  here  for 
a  recusant,  is  thought  to  forbear  coming  to  church 
for  debt  or  for  some  other  causes,  rather  than  of  any 
popish  devotion." 

The  fifth  list  gives  the  names  of  those  who  have 
already  conformed  or  promised  conformity.  At 
Solyhull,  forty-eight  persons  had  either  conformed 
or  had  faithfully  promised  to  do  so ;  at  Edgbaston, 
one  of  the  Middlemores  and  John  Burbage  were 
among  those  who  had  made  the  same  promise ;  at 
Packwood,  Christopher  Shakespeare  and  his  wife  are 
in  the  same  category ;  at  Warwick  there  is  William 
Cook,  alias  Cawdry,  probably  a  Stratford  man ;  at 
Stratford  there  are  seventeen  names  of  similar 
persons — the  first  is  "  Mrs.  Clapton,  wife  of  William 
Clapton,  Esq.,  now  dead,  was  mistaken,  and  goes 
now  to  church " ;  another  of  the  number  was  Joan 
Cook,  alias  Cawdry,  a  member  of  a  family  which 
figures  in  Halliwell's  biography  of  Shakespeare; 
another  was  Edward  Green,  perhaps  a  relation  of 
Shakespeare's  friend  the    actor ;  ^    and   another  of 

^  Green  calls  Shakespeare  his  cousin.  One  Thomas  Green,  cdias 
Shakespeare,  was  buried  at  Stratford,  March  6,  i  sSg-^o—ffaUuoeU, 
269. 


KECUSANTS   IN    SHAKESPEARE's   PLAYS      83 

these  conformists  is  Thomas  Reynolds,  gentleman, 
whom  we  find  elsewhere  selling  property  in  Strat- 
ford to  Sir  William  Catesby. 

Such  then  is  the  Recusancy-return,  and  its  im- 
partial perusal  can  leave  no  doubt,  we  think,  that 
it  includes  none  but  Catholics,  and  that  John 
Shakespeare  was  at  that  time  a  Popish  recusant, 
sheltering  himself  under  the  excuse  of  debt.  From 
1592  there  is  no  evidence  of  his  having  conformed 
nor  again  of  his  being  presented  for  nonconformity, 
so  that  it  may  fairly  be  inferred  that  the  same  pro- 
test was  allowed  to  hold  till  his  death  in  1601,  and 
there  is  further  reason  for  believing  that  he  per- 
severed in  his  faith  to  the  end. 

Before  leaving  the  Recusancy-return  we  would, 
however,  make  two  remarks  it  suggests.  First, 
according  to  Aubrey,  the  names  of  the  poet's 
dramatic  personages  were  often  taken  from  the 
circle  of  his  acquaintance,  for  he  and  Jonson 
gathered  humours  of  men  wherever  they  came. 
Thus  the  original  of  Dogberry  was  a  constable  he 
met  one  midsummer  night  at  Crendon  in  Bucks; 
and  part  of  FalstafF's  character,  as  Bowman  the 
player  relates,  was  drawn  from  a  townsman  at 
Stratford,  who  either  faithlessly  broke  a  contract  or 
spitefully  refused  to  part  with  some  land  adjoining 
Shakespeare's  house.  Now  in  this  one  return  we 
find  seven  of  his  characters  among  the  Warwick- 
shire recusants — Page,  Fluellen,  Gower,  Bates,  Court, 
Bardolph,  and  Bolt — a  fair  indication  at  least  that 


84  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

he  was  tolerably  familiar  with  the  adherents  of  the 
proscribed  creed  in  his  own  county. 

Secondly,  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  large 
list  of  conformists  really  represented  the  march  of 
Protestant  conviction.  It  was  always  the  interest 
of  the  Commissioners  to  make  their  task  appear  a 
success,  and  so  to  be  easily  satisfied  with  the  pro- 
mises of  conformity.  Their  certificates  are  not  much 
more  credible  than  the  reports  of  an  Indian  mis- 
sionary to  his  paymasters  at  Exeter  Hall.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  the  certificate  shows  on  its  face  the 
futile  character  of  these  sham  conversions,  extorted 
by  fear  and  violence.  Thus  we  have  one  Michael 
Commander,  at  Tachbrook  Episcopi,  who  "made 
show  of  conformity,  and  went  to  church,  but  hath 
since  used  so  bad  speeches  as  have  made  the  Com- 
missioners to  fear  that  he  will  start  back  like  a 
broken  bow."  Of  John  Arrowsmith,  of  the  same 
place,  they  say,  "  He  makes  some  show  of  con- 
formity and  goes  to  church ;  but  when  the  preacher 
goeth  up  to  the  pulpit  to  preach  he  goeth  presently 
out  of  the  church,  and  saith  he  must  needs  go  out 
of  the  church  when  a  knave  beginneth  to  preach." 
Again,  Joan  Jennings  "promised  conformity,  but 
did  not  perform  it."  So  John  Wise,  Esq.,  of  Coles- 
hall,  did  "  humbly  and  faithfully  promise  conformity, 
and  not  long  after  came  once  to  his  parish  church ; 
but  never  came  since."  The  fact  is  that  in  1592 
the  persecution  had  reached  such  a  pitch  in  Eng- 
land that  the  Catholics  were  reduced  to  the  last 


JOHN  SHAKESPEARE  S  TESTAMENT  8$ 

extremity,  and  many  a  man,  to  rescue  the  poor 
remnants  of  his  patrimony  for  his  starving  wife  and 
family,  was  persuaded  to  do  violence  to  his  con- 
science once  or  twice,  and  to  appear  at  the  hated 
services  which  his  tyrants  prescribed  for  him. 

The  next  point  we  have  to  consider  regarding 
John  Shakespeare  is  that  of  his  spiritual  Avill. 
The  document  opens  thus :  "  ( i ).  In  the  name  of 
God,  the  Blessed  Virgin,  the  Archangels,  Angels, 
Patriarchs,  Prophets,  Evangelists,  Apostles,  Saints, 
Martyrs,  and  all  the  Celestial  Court  and  Company 
of  Heaven,  I,  John  Shakespeare,  an  unworthy 
member  of  the  Holy  Catholic  religion,  do,  of  my 
own  accord,  freely  make  this  spiritual  testament." 
(2  and  3).  He  then  confesses  that  he  has  been  an 
abominable  sinner,  begs  pardon  for  all  his  offences, 
and  begs  his  guardian  angel  to  be  with  him  at 
his  last  passage.  He  declares  that  he  hopes  to  die 
fortified  with  the  sacrament  of  Extreme  Unction : 
if  he  be  hindered,  then,  he  does  now,  for  that  time, 
demand  and  crave  the  same.  (5  and  6).  He  affirms 
his  hope  of  salvation  solely  in  the  merits  of  Christ, 
and  renounces  beforehand  any  temptation  to  de- 
spair. (7).  He  protests  that  he  will  bear  his  sick- 
ness and  death  patiently,  and  if  any  temptation 
leads  him  to  impatience,  blasphemy,  or  murmuring 
against  God  or  the  Catholic  faith,  he  does  hence- 
forth and  for  the  present  repent,  and  renounces 
all  the  evil  he  might  have  then  done  or  said. 
(8).  He  pardons  all  the  injuries  done  to  him.     (9). 


86  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

He  thanks  God  for  his  creation,  preservation,  and 
vocation  to  the  true  Catholic  faith  (speaking  as  if 
he  had  never  left  it),  and,  above  all,  for  His  for- 
bearance in  not  cutting  him  off  in  the  midst  of 
his  sins.  (lo).  He  makes  the  Blessed  Virgin  and 
St.  Winefride  executrixes  of  his  will,  and  invokes 
them  to  be  present  at  his  death,  as  also  and 
again,  his  guardian  angel.  (12).  He  beseeches  his 
"dear  friends,  parents,  and  kinsfolk,"  whom  he 
assumes  to  be  all  Catholics,  to  assist  him  in  Purga- 
tory with  their  holy  prayers  and  satisfactory  works, 
especially  with  the  holy  sacrifice  of  the  Mass,  as 
being  the  most  effectual  means  to  deliver  souls 
from  their  torments  and  pains.  (13)-  He  prays 
that  his  soul  at  death  may  find  its  repose  in  the 
sweet  coffin  of  the  side  of  Jesus  Christ.  (14).  He 
concludes  by  confirming  his  testament  anew,  in  pre- 
sence of  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  his  angel  guardian, 
and  begs  that  it  may  be  buried  with  him. 

Such  then  are  the  contents  of  the  will,  and  it 
must  be  remembered  that  the  practice  of  mak- 
ing these  spiritual  testaments  was  common  with 
Catholics.  Forms  for  the  Testamentum  animie  are 
to  be  found  in  English  Primers  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  and  the  document  in  question  corresponds 
in  matter  and  style  with  this  form.^  Yet  the  will 
is  generally  rejected  as  spurious  ;  and  why  ? 

On   internal   grounds    the   Edinburgh    Keviewer 

^  F.   Loarte's  "Exercise  of  the  Christian  Life,"  155   and  218, 
translated  and  printed  m  English  in  1579,  is  quoted  by  F.  Thurston 


INTERNAL    OBJECTIONS  87 

thinks  it  evidently  supposititious.  Knight^  will  not 
believe  it  to  be  the  work  of  a  Roman  Catholic  at 
all,  both  because  of  its  uncontroversial  character,  and 
because  its  doctrinal  expressions  are  both  raving  and 
offensive.  As  examples,  he  quotes  in  proof  "  direful 
iron  of  the  lance,"  which  is,  in  truth,  derived  from 
the  line  "  quae  vulnerata  lancesB  mucrone  diro  "  of 
the  ancient  hymn,  "  Vexilla  Regis,"  and  "  Life  giving 
Sepulchre  of  the  Lord's  Side,"  an  expression  not 
only  common  in  Catholic  devotions,  but  imitated 
by  Shakespeare  in  his  thirty-first  sonnet,  where  he 
says  to  his  friend — 

"  Thou  art  the  grave  where  buried  love  does  live." 

The  objections  to  the  genuineness  of  the  will 
on  doctrinal  grounds  arise  only  from  ignorance  of 
Catholic  practices  and  devotion.  The  phrases  and 
manner  pronounced  absurd  and  offensive  are  pre- 
cisely those  usually  employed  in  testaments  of  this 
kind. 

But  the  will  is  rejected  on  external  grounds  as 
a  forgery.  It  was  "  composed,"  Halliwell  Phillipps 
says,  as  is  most  likely,  by  Jordan,^  while  Mr.  Sidney 
Lee  calls  "  the  forgery  of  the  will  of  Shakespeare's 
father,  Jordan's  most  important  achievement."  ^     Let 

(cf.  Month,  May  1882)  as  containing  a  similar  protestation  abridged. 
Maskell,  Monument.  Ritual.  Eccles.  Anglic,  262,  263,  1846,  contains 
two  other  brief  forms  of  spiritual  wills  englished  from  the  Sarum 
Uorae  of  1 508. 

^  *'  Biography  of  Shakespeare,"  30. 

2  "Outlines,"  ii.  403.     1890. 

3  "Jjife  of  Shakespeare,"  366.     1898. 


88  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

US  see  how  far  the  history  of  the  document,  as  far  as 
it  can  be  gathered  from  Halliwell's  extracts  from  the 
evidence  of  Malone,  Jordan,  and  Davenport,^  warrants 
the  statement. 

( I ).  In  1757^  a  small  paper  book  consisting  of  six 
leaves,  purporting  to  be  the  spiritual  testament  of 
John  Shakespeare,  was  found  by  Thomas  Moseley 
between  the  rafters  and  the  roof  when  retiling  the 
house  of  Mr.  Thomas  Hart,  a  lineal  descendant  of  the 
poet's  sister.  Moseley  was  a  master  bricklayer  who 
sometimes  worked  with  his  men.  He  was  sufficiently 
educated  to  transcribe  a  portion  of  the  document. 

(2).  Moseley  lent  the  discovered  will  to  Mr. 
Alderman  Pay  ton  sometime  prior  to  1785,  who 
read  and  returned  it,  saying  that  he  wished  the 
name  had  been  William  instead  of  John.  In  1785 
Jordan  made  a  copy  of  the  manuscript  which  he 
sent  to  the  Gentleman  s  Magazine y  but  that  journal 
rejected  it  as  spurious,  as  did  also  the  Rev.  T. 
Green,  the  rector  of  Wilford,  near  Stratford,  an 
antiquary  of  some  repute.  In  1788  Moseley  died, 
leaving  the  original  manuscript  in  the  hands  again 
of  Pay  ton,  who  sent  it  in  1789,  through  the  Rev. 
T.  Davenport,  the  vicar  of  Stratford,  to  Malone. 

(3).  Malone  took  pains  to  investigate  the  matter 
thoroughly.  He  ascertained  through  Davenport 
that  Moseley  was  a  thoroughly  honest,  sober,  indus- 

1  **  Outlines,"  ii.  400-404. 

2  Jordan  says  1757,  Malone  1770,  but  the  difference  is  immaterial, 
as  the  supposed  forgery  was  in  1785, 


Jordan's  alleged  forgery  89 

trious  man,  and  had  neither  asked  for  nor  received 
any  payment  for  the  document  in  his  possession, 
and  that  his  daughter,  who  was  still  living,  and 
Mr.  Thomas  Hart,  in  whose  house  it  was  found, 
both  perfectly  remembered  the  fact  of  its  discovery 
by  Moseley.  Malone  also  obtained  from  Jordan 
his  account  of  his  connection  with  the  document, 
and  with  this  evidence  before  him,  and  with  the 
knowledge  that  Jordan's  copy  had  been  rejected 
by  the  Gentlemans  Magazine  and  by  Green,  he 
published  in  1790  the  history  of  the  manuscript 
in  his  possession,  declared  himself  perfectly  satisfied 
as  to  its  genuineness,  adding  "  that  its  contents 
are  such  as  no  one  could  have  thought  of  inventing 
with  a  view  to  literary  imposition." 

Such  is  the  history  of  the  will  to  1790.  On  what 
grounds  rests  the  supposed  forgery  ?  Malone,  it  is 
said,  in  1796  recanted  his  verdict.  He  declares 
indeed  that  he  was  mistaken  as  to  the  writer  of  the 
document,  for  from  documents  since  obtained  "he 
is  convinced  that  the  will  could  never  have  been 
written  by  any  of  the  poet's  family."  These  words 
of  Malone  need  mean  nothing  more  than  that  he 
had  satisfied  himself  that  the  will  was  neither  in 
the  autograph  of  John  Shakespeare  nor  in  the 
writing  of  a  member  of  his  family.  But  a  will  may 
be  authentic  without  being  an  autograph,  and  the 
authenticity  of  the  will  Malone  never  calls  in  question. 
To  suppose,  as  some  have  done,  that  Jordan,  instead 
of  making  an  exact   copy  of   the  will,  when  the 


90  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

document  was  lent  to  him  by  Moseley,  fabricated  a 
will  and  returned  his  fabrication  to  Moseley  instead 
of  the  original  document,  is  to  suppose  what  is 
absurd.  The  original  document  was  already  known 
to  Moseley  and  Payton,  and  was  subsequently  again 
in  their  possession,  and  transmitted  by  them  as  genuine 
through  Davenport  to  Malone.  They  must  there- 
fore have  perceived  at  once  any  discrepancy  between 
Jordan's  copy  and  the  original,  and  it  is  simply 
incredible  that  had  such  existed,  neither  Moseley, 
Payton,  Davenport,  nor  Malone  should  ever  have  ex- 
posed Jordan's  forgery,  nor  entered  a  word  of  protest 
against  its  circulation. 

Further,  we  may  ask,  what  motive  was  there  for 
such  a  forgery  ?  There  was  no  controversy  then  as 
to  John  Shakespeare's  religion,  nor  did  the  Ireland 
forgeries,  prompted  according  to  Malone  by  this  very 
will,  appear  till  eleven  years  later.  The  history  of 
the  forged  will  of  William  Shakespeare  offers  an 
instructive  contrast  indeed  to  that  of  the  will  of 
John  Shakespeare.  Ireland  produced  a  will  profes- 
sedly made  by  William  Shakespeare,  having  found  it, 
he  said,  in  the  house  of  a  gentleman  whose  name 
he  could  not  give.  The  contents  of  this  document 
are  of  a  colourless,  stilted  character,  and  Ireland's 
son  Samuel  Henry  admitted,  within  twelve  months 
of  the  publication,  that  he  had  himself  fabricated  the 
document,  though  without  his  father's  knowledge. 
The  will  of  John  Shakespeare  was  found  in  Mr. 
Hart's  house  by  Moseley,  a  man  of  unimpeachable 


WILLIAM   SHAKESPEARE  S   BAPTISM  9 1 

integrity,  and  his  statement  as  to  its  discovery  is 
confirmed  by  independent  testimony.  The  genuine- 
ness of  the  will  is  guaranteed  by  a  chain  of  witnesses 
during  some  thirty  or  forty  years,  and  its  contents 
are  in  complete  agreement,  as  has  been  shown,  with 
the  spiritual  testaments  drawn  up  by  Catholics  at 
that  period.  Against  the  evidence,  internal  and 
external,  in  favour  of  the  will,  the  unsupported 
assumption  of  its  forgery  is  not,  we  think,  tenable. 
The  will  has  therefore  a  right  in  our  judgment  to 
be  regarded  as  genuine  till  further  evidence  to  the 
contrary  be  adduced,  and  thus  we  leave  it  as 
forming  the  last  witness  to  John  Shakespeare's 
religious  belief. 

There  is  good  reason,  then,  for  believing  that  the 
poet's  parents  were  Catholics.  But  it  is  objected  the 
fact  remains  that  the  poet  himself,  whatever  was  the 
religion  of  his  parents,  was  baptized,  married,  and 
buried  in  the  Protestant  Church. 

First,  then,  as  regards  the  baptism.  Catholic 
parents  knew  that  if  the  matter  and  form  were  duly 
applied,  that  sacrament  was  valid,  by  whomsoever 
administered,  lay  or  cleric,  heretic  or  Catholic.  The 
law  enforced  the  baptism  of  all  children  by  the 
minister  in  the  Parish  Church,  and  we  shall  see  in  the 
Recusancy-return  how  carefully  evidence  was  taken 
on  this  head.  There  was  a  great  difiiculty  in  find- 
ing a  priest,  and  Catholics,  even  the  parents  of  the 
child,  were  subjected  to  severe  penalties  for  con- 
ferring that  sacrament.    Lord  Montague,  for  baptizing 


92  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

his  own  son,  was  visited  by  a  pursuivant,  forced  to 
dismiss  all  his  servants,  and  incurred  much  perse- 
cution. So,  too,  as  regards  marriage ;  the  non-per- 
formance of  the  ceremony  at  the  Parish  Church 
always  aroused  suspicions  that  the  services  of  a 
priest  had  been  secretly  employed.  Thus  Arden, 
we  find,  was  examined  concerning  his  daughter's 
marriage  to  Somerville.  "  Where  was  he  married  ? 
in  what  church  ?  and  by  what  minister  ?  Did  not 
Hall  the  priest  marry  Somerville  and  your  daughter 
at  a  Mass,  at  which  you  were  present  ?  "  ^  Shake- 
speare, then,  like  his  connection  Somerville,  may  have 
been  secretly  married  by  some  priest,  and  when  the 
persecution  waxed  hot  in  1581-82,  obtained  a 
licence  from  the  Bishop  of  Worcester,  both  to  screen 
his  secret  espousals  and  to  obtaiQ  a  legal  certificate 
of  his  union.  His  burial  in  the  Protestant  Church 
proves  nothing  as  to  his  religion,  for  it  was  the  only 
official  place  of  interment,  for  priests  as  well  as  laity, 
when  there  were  no  Catholic  cemeteries.  F.  Thur- 
ston mentions  three  priests,  besides  Dr.  Petre,  Vicar 
of  the  Western  District  in  the  last  century,  all  of 
whom  were  buried  in  Protestant  Churches.^ 

The  performance  of  these  three  rites  according  to 
the  new  creed  prove,  then,  nothing  conclusively  as 
to  the  poet's  religion.  We  believe,  however,  that 
surer  evidence  as  to  his  religion  is  to  be  found  by 
considering  the  creed  and  politics  of  his  friends, 

^  Dom.  Eliz.,  vol.  clxvii.  No.  59. 
'  Month,  May  1882,  12. 


LEICESTER   AND    ARDEN  93 

associates,  and  patrons.  The  Protestant  and  Catholic 
parties  in  Warwickshire,  as  well  as  in  every  part  of 
the  kingdom,  were  in  a  position  of  bitter  antagonism, 
and  in  this  strife  the  poet  soon  became  involved. 
The  leader  of  the  Protestant  party  in  Shakespeare's 
county  was  the  new  upstart  favourite  Dudley,  Earl  of 
Leicester.  Absolutely  devoid  of  principle,  religious 
or  other,  and  at  times  indeed  favourable  to  Catholics, 
as  for  instance  in  his  relations  with  Campion,  he  found 
it  to  his  interests  in  Warwickshire  to  play  the  part  of 
a  zealous  Puritan ;  and  he  thus  secured  the  support 
of  the  Grenvilles,  Lucys,  the  Combes,  the  Porters 
and  others,  all  zealous  adherents  of  the  new  religion. 
Leicester's  iniquities,  his  criminal  relations  with  the 
Lady  Shelffield  and  Lady  Essex,  his  murder  of  both 
their  husbands  and  of  his  own  wife  at  Cumnor, 
were  condoned  or  ignored  by  his  partisans,  in  return 
for  his  Puritan  zeal.^  Not  so,  however,  with  the 
Catholics,  and  conspicuous  among  them  in  his 
sturdy  independence  was  Edward  Arden,  the  Squire 
of  Parkhall,  and  the  cousin  of  Shakespeare's  mother. 
He  refused  to  wear  the  Earl's  livery,  and  openly 
expressed  his  disgust  at  his  infamies.  Arden  was 
supported  in  his  contest  by  the  prayers  and  good 
wishes  of  all  that  was  respectable  in  the  county, 
but  the  Earl  had  the  machinery  of  Cecil's  state- 
craft at  his  command,  and  knew  how  to  use  it. 
In  1583,  Somerville,  Arden's  son-in-law,  a  youth  of 
naturally  weak  mind,  which  had  become  still  farther 

^  Parsons,  "  Leicester's  Commonwealth." 


94  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

unbalanced  by  his  brooding  over  the  wrongs  of 
Catholics,  went  up  to  London  with  the  avowed 
purpose  of  shooting  the  Queen.  This  was  Leices- 
ter's opportunity.  Somerville  was  arrested,  as  were 
also  the  Ardens  and  Hall,  their  chaplain.  They 
were  indicted  for  treason  at  Warwick,  but  fearing 
Arden's  popularity  there,  Leicester  got  the  venue 
changed  to  London.  They  were  all  condemned. 
Somerville  was  found  strangled  in  Newgate,  Arden 
suffered  a  traitor  s  death  at  Smithfield,  his  wife,  his 
daughter,  Mrs.  Somerville,  and  Hall  the  chaplain 
endured  a  long  imprisonment  at  the  Tower.  One 
of  Leicester's  henchmen,  meanwhile,  was  in  posses- 
sion of  Arden's  and  Somerville's  estates,  till  he  was 
finally  ejected  by  Arden's  son. 

But  what  has  this  to  do  with  Shakespeare  ?  Mr. 
Simpson  hazarded  the  supposition  that  he  had  served 
Arden  in  the  capacity  first  of  a  page,  and  then  in 
that  of  a  legal  secretary  or  agent,  under  the  assumed 
name  of  WilHam  Thacker.  The  Edinburgh  Reviewer 
has,  however,  since  shown  that  William  Thacker  was 
a  real  personage.  But,  even  though  Shakespeare  had 
not  been  a  member  of  the  Arden  household,  the 
poet's  blood  connection  with  the  Ardens  could  have 
scarcely  suffered  him  to  remain  indifferent  to  the 
bitter  persecutions  they  endured.  He  was,  at  this 
time,  an  ardent  youth  of  nineteen ;  was  there  any  one 
on  whom  he  could  in  any  way  avenge  the  wrong  done 
to  his  own  kith  and  kin  ?  Within  a  few  miles  of 
Stratford  lay  the  property  of  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  the 


THE   DEER-KILLING    INCIDENT  95 

Puritan  tool  of  Leicester,  and  the  persecutor  of  the 
Warwickshire   Papists.      He  had   twice   summoned 
Shakespeare's  father  for  recusancy,  and  was  a  lead- 
ing member  of  the  commission  on  Somerville  and 
Arden.     In  those  days  deer-killing  was  not  a  mere 
poaching  venture  for  gain's  sake,  but  was  employed 
by   both   sides   as   an   act   of  retributive  justice  or 
revenge.    Thus  in  1556  divers  "ill-disposed"  showed 
their  hostility  to  Heath,  the  Archbishop  of  York  and 
Queen   Mary's   Chancellor,  by  destroying  his  deer, 
and  in  1600  the  "evil  affected"  slew  the  cattle  of 
William  Brettergle,  High  Constable  of  the  county, 
doubtless    in    revenge   for  his  persecuting  tactics.^ 
And  it  is  just  about  the  date  of  the  Arden  and 
Somerville  trials,  i.e.    1583,  that,  as  all  the  poet's 
biographers  agree,  Shakespeare  was  forced  to  leave 
Stratford,  because  of  the  unduly  severe  punishment 
that  he  received  from  Sir  T.  Lucy,  for  killing  his 
deer.     Halliwell,  indeed,  thinks  that  nothing  short 
of  persecution  could  have  provoked  an  attack  from 
one  usually  so   moderate  and  gentle   as  the  poet. 
That  the   persecution   in   question   arose   from   the 
poet's  indignation  at  Lucy's  treatment  of  his  rela- 
tions, there  is,  we  think,  good  reason,  from   what 
has  been  said,  for  believing.     Later  on  he  revenged 
himself  again  on  his  persecutor  by  holding  him  up 
to   ridicule  in  the   person   of  Mr.  Justice   Shallow, 
whose  identity  is  determined  by  the  "  luces  "  in  the 
Shallow  Coat-of-Arms,  explained  by  Parson  Evans 

^  Dom.  Eliz.,  vol.  cclxxv.  No.  115. 


96  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

in  his  equivocal  speech ;  "  the  dozen  white  louses 
do  become  an  old  coat  well." 

In  1584-85,  Shakespeare,  then  "  having  " — ac- 
cording to  the  Rev.  T.  Davis,  a  Protestant  clergy- 
man, writing  eighty  years  after  the  poet's  death — 
"  been  oft  whipt  and  sometimes  imprisoned "  by 
Lucy,  found  himself  obliged  to  fly  to  London.  For 
a  young  man  in  trouble  the  stage  presented  perhaps 
the  only  opportunity  of  a  livelihood,  and  to  Catho- 
lics it  offered  special  attractions.  They  were  trained 
by  their  religion  to  delight  in  the  dramatic  repre- 
sentations employed  by  the  Church  in  her  services. 
The  Corpus  Christi  and  other  processions  were  duly 
held  during  Mary's  reign,  and  had  been  only  of  late 
prohibited.  The  stage  again  offered  peculiar  pro- 
tection for  suspected  persons  against  domiciliary 
visits,  tests,  and  oaths — for  actors  were  classed  as 
vagabonds,  or  persons  having  no  fixed  address. 
The  theatre  thus  became  held  in  favour  by  Papists, 
as  the  following  petition  from  a  Puritan  soldier  will 
show : — 

"  The  dailie  abuse  of  Stage  Playes  is  such  an 
offence  to  the  godly,  and  so  great  a  hindrance  to 
the  gospell,  as  the  papists  do  exceedingly  rejoice  at 
the  bleamysh  thereof,  and  not  without  cause ;  for 
every  day  in  the  weeke  the  players'  bills  are  sett 
up  in  sundry  places  of  the  cittie,  some  in  the  name 
of  her  Majestie's  menne,  some  the  Earl  of  Leicester, 
some  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  the  Lord  Admyralles,  and 
divers  others ;  so  that  when  the  belles  tole  to  the 


THE   EARL   OF   SOUTHAMPTON  97 

Lectorer,  the  trumpetts  sound  to  the  Stages,  whereat 
the  wicked  faction  of  Rome  laugheth  for  joy,  while 
the  godly  weepe  for  sorrowe.  Woe  is  me !  The 
play  houses  are  pestered,  when  churches  are  naked  : 
at  the  one  it  is  not  possible  to  gett  a  place,  at  the 
other  voyde  seats  are  plentie."  ^ 

Of  Shakespeare's  early  years  in  London  little  is 
known ;  but  as  Lord  Southampton,  his  supporter  and 
friend,  was  the  patron  of  the  Blackfriars  Theatre,  it  is 
naturally  supposed  that  he  there  began  his  career  as 
an  actor.  Henry  Wriothesley,  Earl  of  Southampton, 
was  cradled  in  Catholic  surroundings.  His  father 
also,  Henry,  second  Earl,  was  a  well-known  papist, 
and  a  devoted  adherent  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots, 
and  for  his  action  in  her  behalf  was  sent  to  the 
Tower  in  1572.  He  died  in  1581,  aged  thirty-five, 
leaving  ;£^200  to  be  distributed  amongst  the  poor  of 
his  estates  to  pray  for  his  soul  and  the  souls  of  his 
ancestors.  His  wife,  Mary  Brown,  Southampton's 
mother,  was  the  daughter  of  Lord  Montague,  who 
suffered  much  for  the  Faith.  The  poet's  patron 
himself  was  trained,  indeed,  in  the  opposite  camp. 
He  was  brought  up  under  the  guardianship  of 
Burleigh,  and  took  his  degree  at  St.  John's  College, 
Cambridge.  Nevertheless  his  friendship  with  Essex, 
together  with  the  traditional  associations  connected 
with  his  name,  led  to  his  being  regarded,  as  we  shall 
see,  as  champion  of  the  Catholic  party.     Through 

^  "Dramatic  Poetry,"  by  J.  Payne  Collier,  F.S.A.,  i.  263-264; 
Harleian  MSS.,  286. 

G 


98  EXTERNAL   EVmENCE 

Southampton,  therefore,  the  poet  would  have  found 
himself  among  many  papist  associates. 

The  first  certain  allusion  to  him  as  an  author  is  in 
1592,  in  Greene's  "Groatsworth  of  Wit,"  when  the 
dying  dramatist,  jealous  of  Shakespeare's  success, 
writes  to  warn  his  fellow-playwrights  against  putting 
any  trust  in  actors,  "for  there  is  an  upstart  crow 
beautified  with  our  feathers,  that  with  his  tygers  heart 
wrapt  in  a  player  s  hide,  supposes  he  is  well  able  to 
bombast  out  a  blanke  verse  with  the  best  of  you ;  and 
being  an  absolute  Johannes  factotemi,  is  in  his  owne 
conceit  the  onely  Shake-scene  in  a  country."  ^  The 
words  ^'  tiger's  heart,  etc.,"  are  a  parody  on  the  line 
in  the  third  part  of  "  Henry  VI."  : — 

"  Oh  tyger's  heart,  wrapt  in  a  woman's  hide." 

In  I  5  94  he  appears  in  the  accounts  of  the  Trea- 
surer of  the  Chamber  as  having  twice  played  before 
EHzabeth  with  Richard  Burbage,^  at  Christmas  time 
at  Greenwich  Palace.  In  1596  he  had  attained 
such  success,  both  as  an  author  and  actor,  that  he 
was  able  to  become  proprietor  of  the  Blackfriars 
Theatre,  and  in  1597  to  buy  "New  Place,"  his 
subsequent  place  of  residence  at  Stratford.  But 
during    these    years — 1593-97  —  fresh    political 

1  For  this  envious  attack  Chettle,  Greene's  editor,  made  Shake- 
speare a  handsome  apology. — Outlines,  i.  lOO. 

^  Mr.  Halliwell  Philiipps  considers  there  is  no  evidence  for  the 
opinion  held  by  Simpson  and  others  that  Kichard  and  James 
Burbage  were  of  the  Warwickshire  Catholic  family  of  that  name 
(i.  344).l 


THE   ESSEX   CONSPIRACY  99 

troubles  were  gathering,  and  Shakespeare's  part  in 
them  shows  us  where  his  sympathies  lay.  The 
English  people  had  become  disgusted  with  Eliza- 
beth and  Cecil's  tyranny,  and  the  Queen  was 
detested  by  Papists  and  Puritans  alike.  Of  both 
these  parties  the  Earl  of  Essex  was  the  hope  and 
the  champion,  for  he  was  known,  on  the  one 
hand,  to  be  in  correspondence  with  the  Pope,^ 
and  on  the  other  he  openly  advocated  religious 
toleration.  The  supporters  of  Essex,  to  avoid  sus- 
picion, held  their  deliberations  at  Drury  House, 
the  residence  of  Lord  Southampton,  Shakespeare's 
patron.  Some  means  were,  however,  needed  to  stir 
the  popular  discontent  and  to  familiarise  the  public 
mind  with  the  idea,  if  not  of  deposing  Elizabeth,  at 
least  of  making  Essex  practically  supreme.  At  that 
time  political  movements  were  not  begotten  by 
theories,  arguments  on  the  rights  of  the  people, 
or  abstract  principles,  but  by  precedents,  privileges, 
and  charters.  An  example  was  then  required  of 
how  a  tyrannical,  usurping  sovereign  might  be 
coerced,  and  this  was  furnished  by  Shakespeare's 
play  of  "  Richard  II." 

Dr.  Hayward  had  already  composed,  with  the 
same  end,  a  history  of  the  deposition  of  that 
monarch,  and  had  dedicated  it  to  Essex,  but  it 
was  altogether  too  dry  and  prosaic  for  the  stage. 
Shakespeare's     play     presents     the     same     theme 

^  His  chaplain,  Alabaster,  had  already  become  a  Catholic  in  Spain 
(Dom.  Eliz.,  vol.  cclxxv.  nn.  32,  33,  35,  July  1600). 


100  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

and  moral,  cast  in  dramatic  form.  The  play  of 
"Richard  II."  was  pronounced  treasonable  on  the 
following  heads:  the  selection  of  a  story  200  years 
old,  in  order  to  demonstrate  the  misgovernment  of 
the  Crown,  the  corruption  and  covetousness  of  the 
Council,  the  promotion  of  unworthy  favourites,  op- 
pression of  the  nobles,  and  the  excessive  taxation 
of  the  people,  enacted  professedly  to  prosecute  the 
suppression  of  the  Irish  rebellion,  but  in  fact  to  line 
the  pockets  of  the  king.^  The  following  extracts 
will  show  how  exactly  these  objections  apply  to 
Shakespeare's  play : — 

"  Now  for  the  rebels  which  stand  out  in  Ireland, 
Expedient  manage  must  be  made.  .  .  . 
We  will  ourselves  in  person  to  this  war  ; 
And,  for  our  coffers — with  too  great  a  court 
And  liberal  largess — are  grown  somewhat  light, 
We  are  enforced  to  farm  our  royal  realm. 

...  If  that  come  short, 
Our  substitutes  at  home  shall  have  blank  charters. 
Whereto,  when  they  shall  know  what  men  are  rich, 
They  shall  subscribe  them  with  large  sums  of  gold, 
And  send  them  after  to  supply  our  wants." 

Richard  wishes  his  uncle,  John  of  Gaunt,  a  speedy 
death,  when 

"  The  lining  of  his  coffers  shall  make  coats 
To  deck  our  soldiers  for  these  Irish  wars." 

And  he  carried  out  his  threat,  too,  by  seizing  all  his 

^  Dom.  Eliz.,  vol.  cclxxv.  No.  25,  i. 


FAILTJKE    OF   THE   CONSPIRACY  1 01 

"  plate,  coin,  revenue,  and  moveables?'  *  The  old  duke 
had  told  him  that 

"A  thousand  flatterers  sit  within  thy  crown, 
Whose  compass  is  no  bigger  than  thy  head  ; 
And  yet  encaged  in  so  small  a  verge 
The  waste  is  no  whit  lesser  than  thy  land." 

We  may  easily  fancy  with  what  excitement  the 
conversation  of  Northumberland,  Ross,  and  Wil- 
loughby  would  be  listened  to  by  the  favourers  of 
Essex  : 

"  North.  Now,  afore  heaven,  'tis  shame  such  wrongs  are 
borne. 
The  king  is  not  himself,  but  basely  led 
By  flatterers  ;  and  what  they  will  inform, 
Merely  in  hate,  'gainst  any  of  us  all, 
That  will  the  king  severely  prosecute 
'Gainst  us,  our  lives,  our  children,  and  our  heirs. 

Ross.  The  commons  hath  he  filled  with  grievous  taxes, 
And  lost  their  hearts  ;  the  nobles  hath  he  fined 
For  ancient  quarrels,  and  quite  lost  their  hearts. 

WUlo.  And  daily  new  exactions  are  devised  ; 
As  blanks,  benevolences,  and  I  wot  not  what. 
But  what,  o'  God's  name,  doth  become  of  this  ? " 

Cecil  felt  the  lines  applied  to  his  own  policy,  and 
the  Queen  exclaimed  to  Lambarde,  "  Know  ye  not 
I  am  Richard  II.  ? "  The  conspiracy,  however,  failed. 
Essex  himself  was  beheaded  in  the  year  1600. 
Southampton  was  sent  to  the  Tower.  The  Earls  of 
Rutland,  Monteagle;  Sirs  John  Davies,  C.  Danvers, 
C.  Bloimt ;  Robert  Catesby  and  William  Green,  both 
Warwickshire  men ;  John  Arden,  the  poet's  con- 
nection; John  Wheeler,  John  Shakespeare's  friend 


ipa    .^,..,         EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

and  fellow-recusarit,  all  Catholics,  were  among  those 
involved  in  the  consequences  of  the  conspiracy.^ 
The  poet,  although  his  play  was  condemned,  himself 
escaped.  Hayward  instead  was  chosen  as  the  victim 
of  the  royal  vengeance,  and  was  imprisoned  and 
racked.  But  here  again,  as  in  the  Lucy  whippings 
and  imprisonment,  so  now  in  the  Essex  conspiracy 
we  find  the  poet  connected  apparently  with  the 
Catholic  party. 

In  1603  Elizabeth  died,  and  Shakespeare  alone 
of  his  contemporary  poets  and  dramatists  refused 
to  compose  one  line  in  honour  of  her  memory. 
Chettle,  indeed,  thus  complains,  that  though  she 
favoured  him  in  life,  he  neglected  her  when  dead. 

"  Nor  doth  the  silver-tongued  melicent 
Drop  from  his  honeyed  muse  one  subtle  tear 
To  mourn  her  death,  that  granted  his  desert ; 
And  to  his  lays  opened  her  royal  ear. 
Shepherd,  remember  our  Elizabeth 
And  sing  her  rape,  done  by  that  Tarquin,  Deatli." 

—  England^ s  Mourning  Garment,  1603. 

That  he  knew  and  appreciated  her  falseness  and 
infamy,  we  shall  see  later. 

With  the  accession  of  James,  the  hopes  of 
Catholics  rose ;  he  promised  toleration,  and  was 
hailed  as  a  deliverer.  But  though  he  spared  the 
lives  of  Catholics,  he  adopted  a  mode  of  persecu- 
tion, by  fines  and  penalties,  which  reduced  them 

^  Dom.  Eliz.,  vol.  cclxxvii.,  February  1601,  MSS.  38,  39,  40,  41  ; 
Rutland  MSS.,  vol.  i.  367  ;  Townsend  MSS.,  p.  10,  where  the  name 
of  Thomas  Wheeler  is  given  as  well  as  that  of  John. 


GUNPOWDEK   PLOT  IO3 

to  beggary,  and  filled  his  treasury  by  some 
;^3  60,000  a  year.  Their  rage  in  consequence  was 
intense;  they  had  already  grievously  suffered  for 
their  allegiance  to  his  mother,  and  their  hearts  were 
hardened  by  the  ingratitude  and  baseness  of  her 
son.  The  prospect  of  any  constitutional  redress 
seemed  hopeless;  their  policy  was  one  of  despair. 
Instigated  by  the  tools  of  Cecil,  a  number  of  Catho- 
Ucs,  many  of  whom  had  been  in  the  Essex  plot, 
combined  in  the  hope  of  destroying,  at  one  blow, 
King,  Lords,  and  Commons.  When  the  conspira- 
tors were  sufficiently  implicated,  their  apprehension 
followed,  according  to  the  correct  State  method. 
Among  the  chief  actors  in  the  so-called  Gunpowder 
Plot  were  Catesby,  the  two  Bates',  John  Grant  of 
Norbrook  near  Stratford,  Thomas  Winter,  Grant's 
brother-in-law,  all  Shakespeare's  friends  and  bene- 
factors. Now  it  is  remarkable  that  in  the  two 
plays  of  this  period,  "  Julius  Caesar  "  and  "  Hamlet," 
which  alike  turn  on  tyrannicide,  all  the  sympathy 
is  evoked  in  favour  of  the  conspirators. 

The  concluding  eight  or  ten  years  of  his  life,  till 
his  death  in  1616,  Shakespeare  spent  in  comparative 
obscurity  at  his  native  place.  His  retirement  is 
commonly  attributed  to  the  desire  to  live  as  a 
country  gentleman  at  Stratford.  Why  he  was  thus 
relegated  to  the  background  may  be  gathered  from 
the  history  of  his  contemporaries,  Ben  Jonson  and 
Donne,  both  at  one  time  Catholics,  who  procured 
for  themselves  places  at  court,  the  laureateship,  and 


104  EXTERNAL  EVIDENCE 

other  preferments.  The  history  of  Jonson's  con- 
version shows  how  easily  a  man,  in  those  troubled 
times,  might  become  a  Catholic  without  the  world 
at  large  having  any  suspicion  of  the  change. 

Jonson,  having  slain  Gabriel  Spencer,  the  actor, 
in  a  duel  in  1593,  found  himself  in  the  Marshalsea 
under  sentence  of  death.  Among  the  prisoners  were 
many  priests,  also  awaiting  trial;  and  these  were, 
in  fact,  far  more  at  Hberty  to  pursue  the  functions 
of  the  ministry  in  their  confinement,  than  when  at 
large.  They  said  Mass,  as  a  rule,  daily,  though  they 
were  forced  to  substitute  tin  for  silver  chalices,  as 
the  latter  were  so  constantly  appropriated  by  Sir 
George  Carey,  the  Governor.  They  preached  at 
times,  and  instructed  their  fellow-prisoners,  when- 
ever opportunity  offered.  Jonson,  then,  having 
eternity  before  him  and  a  priest  at  his  side,  thought 
of  setting  his  soul  in  order,  and  embraced  the  faith. 
Having  found  means  to  obtain  his  release,  he  mar- 
ried a  wife,  a  CathoUc  like  himself.  By  her  he  had 
two  children,  a  girl  who  died,  aged  six  months,  and 
a  boy  to  whom  Shakespeare  was  godfather.  The 
epitaph  written  by  Jonson  on  the  former  shows  that 
both  parents  were  at  that  time  Catholics,  and  would, 
therefore,  probably  have  chosen  a  Catholic  god- 
father for  their  son.     The  verses  run  as  follows : — 

"  At  six  months'  end  she  parted  hence 
With  safety  of  her  innocence ; 
Whose  soul  Heaven's  Queen,  whose  name  she  bears, 
In  comfort  of  her  mother's  tears 
Hath  placed  among  her  virgin  train." — Epigram  22. 


JONSON   AND   DONNE  10$ 

At  Christmas  1598,  Shakespeare  brought  out 
Jonson's  play  "Every  Man  in  his  Humour"  at  the 
Blackfriars  Theatre,  an  act  of  special  kindness,  seeing 
that  Jonson  up  to  August  of  that  year  had  been  in 
the  pay  of  a  rival  company.  They  seem  to  have 
drawn  apart  after  the  exposure  of  the  Gunpowder  Plot 
in  1605.  The  country  was  now  in  a  state  of  violent 
agitation,  and  a  sifting-time  for  Catholics  followed. 
Shakespeare  retired,  as  we  have  seen,  from  the 
company  of  king's  actors,  immured  himself  at  Strat- 
ford, and  his  plays  seem  to  have  been  no  longer 
performed  at  Court.  But  timid  and  time-serving 
Catholics  like  Ben  Jonson  took  another  line.  Jonson 
hastened  to  conform,  and  offered  his  services  to  the 
Government.  He  took  the  oath  of  supremacy,  went 
to  church,  received  the  Sacrament,  drank  the  whole 
cup  at  a  draught,  and  secured  his  place  at  Court. 
He  further  proved  his  loyalty  by  commemorating 
the  plot  in  his  tragedy  of  "  Catiline,"  in  which  he 
talks  of  the  bloody  and  black  Sacrament  taken  by 
the  conspirators,  the  "  fire  and  balls,  swords,  torches, 
sulphur,  and  brands  "  prepared  by  their  hands,  while 
the  conspirators  themselves  were  described  as  the 
foulest  murderers  and  villains. 

Or  consider,  again,  the  case  of  the  metaphysical 
poet  Donne.  Handsome  and  accomplished,  of  a 
singular  personal  attractiveness,  he  found  prefer- 
ment by  abusing  the  faith  he  had  professed,  and 
vilif3dng  the  noble  stock  from  which  he  sprang. 
"The    Pseudo- Martyr,"    published    in     16 10,    was 


I06  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

written  to  prove  that  his  own  ancestral  relative, 
the  Blessed  Thomas  More,  had  suffered,  not  for  the 
Faith  but  for  his  own  obstinacy;  and  that  the 
thousands  of  CathoHcs  persecuted  and  beggared  by 
James  were  no  deserving  objects  of  sympathy.  He 
could  speak  with  experience ;  his  two  maternal  uncles, 
Jasper  and  EUas  Heywood,  of  the  Society  of  Jesus, 
died  abroad  after  much  suffering,  Confessors  for  the 
Faith.  His  own  younger  brother,  Henry  Donne,  died 
of  gaol  fever  in  the  Clink,  where  he  was  incarcerated 
for  harbouring  in  his  barrister's  chambers  Father 
Harrington,  the  martyr.  But  Donne's  servile  slander 
.and  flattery  served  his  turn ;  he  became  Royal  Chap- 
lain, and  finally  Dean  of  St.  Paul's.  With  the  con- 
duct of  these  contemporaries  of  his,  Jonson  and 
Donne,  Shakespeare's  voluntary  retirement,  when  he 
was  in  his  prime  and  at  the  height  of  his  success 
and  power,  is  in  marked  contrast;  and  his  self- 
imposed  seclusion  seems  only  explicable  by  the  fact 
that  the  new  order  of  things  was  thoroughly  dis- 
tasteful to  him. 

An  argument  in  favour  of  his  Protestantism 
has  been  drawn  from  an  entry  in  the  Chamber- 
lain's accounts  at  Stratford,  showing  that  one  quart 
of  sack  was  given  to  a  preacher  at  "  New  Place  "  in 
1 6 14.  But,  as  a  fact,  ministers  were  often  quar- 
tered on  Catholics,  who  were  not  sorry  to  secure 
their  goodwill  in  return  for  the  hospitality  offered 
them.  Thus  we  read  of  one  "  Henry  Stamford,  a 
minister,  tutor  to  Lord  Paget's  son,  who  sups  at  Lord 


PEOTESTANT   MINISTEKS  I07 

Montague's  (a  notorious  recusant)  at  Courdray."  ^ 
Again,  in  1608,  we  hear  of  Lord  William  Howard, 
a  known  recusant,  who,  being  elected  a  Christmas 
Lord,  with  his  tenants  and  servants  at  Bampton, 
Westmoreland,  "  most  grossly  disturbed  the  minister 
in  time  of  Divine  Service;  the  minister  himself  grant' 
ing  toleration,  because  he  ordinarily  dines  and  sups 
at  Lord  William's  table,  but  never  prays  with  him. 
These  Christmas  misrule  men,  some  of  them  drank 
to  the  minister  when  he  was  at  prayers ;  others 
stepped  into  the  pulpit  and  invited  the  parishioners 
to  offer  for  the  maintenance  of  their  sport ;  others 
came  into  the  church  disguised ;  others  fired  guns 
and  brought  in  flags  and  banners ;  others  sported 
themselves  with  pies  and  puddings  in  the  church, 
using  them  as  bowls  in  the  church  aisles;  others 
played  with  dogs,  using  them  as  they  used  to 
frighten  sheep ;  and  all  this  was  done  in  church  and 
in  time  of  Divine  Service,  and  the  said  Lord  doth 
bring  the  ministers  about  him  into  contempt,  scorn, 
and  derision."  ^ 

Whether  Shakespeare  also  contributed  to  bring 
the  ministers  into  scorn,  contempt,  and  derision,  Mr. 
Thornbury,  a  very  strong  Protestant,  shall  tell  us. 
In  his  work,  "  Shakespeare's  England,"  he  says : 
"  The  Elizabethan  chaplain  held  an  anomalous  posi- 
tion ;  he  was  respected  in  the  parlour  for  his  mission 


^  Dom.  Eliz.,  vol.  cxciii.  No.  6. 
2  Dom.  James  I.,  vol.  xl.  No.  u 


I08  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

and  despised  in  the  servants'  hall  for  his  slovenli- 
ness ;  he  was  often  drunken  and  frequently  quarrel- 
some ;  now  the  butler  broke  his  head  in  a  drinking 
bout,  and  now  the  abigail  pinned  cards  and  coney- 
tails  to  his  cassock.  To  judge  from  Sir  OKver 
Martext  and  Sir  Hugh  Evans,  the  parish  priests  of 
Shakespeare's  day  were  no  very  shining  lights,  and 
the  poet  seems  to  fall  back,  as  in  *  Romeo  and 
Juliet '  and  *  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,'  on  the 
ideal  priest  of  an  earlier  age.  It  is  indeed  true 
that  he  always  mentions  the  Old  Faith  with  a  certain 
yearning  fondness."  ^ 

Though  the  poet  expresses  thus  plainly  in  his 
writings  his  predilection  for  the  ancient  faith,  and 
though  his  parents  with  many  of  his  closest  friends 
and  associates  were  CathoUcs,  and  his  political  sjm- 
pathies  are  on  the  Catholic  side,  the  fact  that  he 
allowed  both  his  daughters  to  be  brought  up  Pro- 
testants is  a  strong  argument  for  his  practical  in- 
difference in  the  matter  of  religion.  If  he  retained 
the  faith  of  his  birth,  and  there  is  no  proof  that 
he  ever  abjured  it,^  he  must  have  lived,  like  so 
many  Catholics  of  his  age,  concealing  his  religious 
convictions.      And   his  external  biography,  as  far 

1  Vol.  i.,  211. 

'  **  Though  the  names  of  his  fellow-actors  are  found  in  the  token- 
books,  proving  that  they  received  Communion  according  to  law 
in  the  parish  of  St.  Saviour's,  Southwark,  to  which  the  Blackfriars 
company  belonged,  Shakespeare's  name  is  not  among  them." — 
Collier's  "Memoirs  of  the  Principal  Actors  in  Shakespeare' s  Plays,^' 
Introd.,  12. 


DEATH   AS   A   PAPIST  IO9 

as  its  meagre  outlines  extend,  would  have  left  us 
in  doubt  as  to  the  nature  of  his  creed.  We  have, 
however,  one  further  fact  positively  attested,  the 
only  direct  evidence,  indeed,  given  us  as  to  his 
religion,  but  which  shows  that,  however  time-serving 
and  unworthy  he  may  have  been  as  regards  his 
faith  in  life,  it  was  not  so  in  death.  A  Gloucester- 
shire clergyman.  Rev.  Richard  Davies  {oh,  1708), 
in  his  additions  to  the  biographical  collection  of  the 
Rev.  William  Fulman,  a  learned  writer  and  pro- 
nounced Protestant  {oh.  1688),  expressly  states  that 
Shakespeare  has  a  monument  at  Stratford,  "  in 
which  he  lays  a  heavy  curse  on  any  one  who  shall 
remove  his  bones.  He  died  a  Papist."  This  entry 
of  Davies  is  often  rejected  as  too  remote  and  un- 
supported to  offer  any  valid  testimony.  But  we 
must  remember  that  in  the  very  year  of  his  death, 
16 16,  four  priests  and  one  layman  suffered  for 
the  Faith ;  so  that  the  ministrations  of  a  priest  in 
Shakespeare's  case  would  have  been  carefully  con- 
cealed at  the  time,  and  even  later  would  have  been 
divulged  only  with  caution,  for  similar  executions 
continued  to  take  place  till  1681.  In  any  case 
Davies*  statement  represents,  as  Mr.  Hall i well 
Phillipps  points  out,  the  local  tradition  of  the  later 
half  of  the  seventeenth  century ;  nor  does  it  emanate, 
as  he  says,  from  a  man  like  Prynne,  anxious  to  en- 
kindle hatred  against  a  stage  player  by  proving 
him  a  Romanist ;  but  it  is  "  the  testimony  of  a 
sober  clergyman,  who  could  have  had  no  conceiv- 


no  EXTERNAL   EVIDENCE 

able  motive  for  deception  in  what  is  evidently  the 
casual  note  of  a  provincial  hearsay.^ 

Lastly,  it  is  objected  that  if  Shakespeare  died  a 
Cathohc,  how  could  he  have  been  buried  in  the 
chancel,  the  place  of  honour  in  the  Parish  Church  ? 
Shakespeare,  in  virtue  of  his  tenure  of  half  the 
tithes,  was,  so  to  say,  lay  Rector  of  Stratford.  The 
chancel  belonged  to  the  Corporation,  not  to  the 
Vicar,  and  to  them,  not  to  him,  the  fees  for  burial 
there  were  paid.  Moreover,  just  about  this  time 
the  Corporation  was  at  war  with  the  Vicar.  On 
December  4,  161 5,  we  find  the  entry:  "At  this 
Hall  it  is  agreed  that  the  Chamberlains  shall  dis- 
charge Mr.  Rodgers,  the  Vicar,  from  receiving  any 
more  benefit  by  burials  in  the  chancel,  and  that 
the  Chamberlains  shall  receive  it  from  henceforth 
towards  the  repairs  of  the  chancel  of  the  Parish 
Church,  and  also  to  demand  of  Mr.  Rodgers  so 
much  as  he  hath  received  within  the  last  year."* 
This  strife  seems  to  have  lasted  till  May  1 6 1 7,  when 
Wilson  was  appointed  Vicar.  In  such  a  state  of 
things  there  would  have  been  nothing  unlikely  in 
the  master  of  the  great  house  of  the  town  being 
buried  in  the  place  of  honour,  notwithstanding  sus- 
picions of  Popery  attached  to  his  name.  The  tombs 
of  CathoUc  equally  with  those  of  Protestant  squires 
are  to    be  found  in  the  chancels  of  their  Parish 


1  "Outliues,'  i.  265. 

^  Halliwell's  "  Stratford  Records,"  107. 


BURIAL   IN    THE    CHANCEL  III 

Churclies.  The  objection  to  Shakespeare's  Catholi- 
cism founded  on  the  site  of  his  grave,  sometimes 
emphasised  as  most  important,  is  absolutely  incon- 
clusive, and  leaves  untouched  the  wholly  independ- 
ent evidence  in  its  favour  already  given. 


CHAPTER    III. 

CONTEMPORARY    DRAMATISTS. 

While  Shakespeare's  predilection  for  the  old  order 
of  things  is  generally  admitted,  yet  this  is  said  to 
prove  little  or  nothing  as  to  his  religious  belief. 
The  traditional  mode  of  thought  and  speech  current 
in  his  time  forbade,  we  are  told,  any  scurrilous 
treatment  of  the  ancient  faith,  and  CathoHc  modes 
of  expression  are  to  be  found  in  the  other  drama- 
tists of  the  period.  "The  whole  English  stage 
at  that  period,"  says  Gervinus,  "never  ventured 
to  my  knowledge  to  portray  a  character  even 
slightly  tinged  with  religious  bigotry";  and  again, 
Macaulay  writes,  "  The  greatest  and  most  popular 
dramatists  of  the  Elizabethan  age  treat  reUgious 
subjects  in  a  very  remarkable  manner  .  .  .  We 
remember  nothing  in  their  plays  resembling  the 
coarse  ridicule  with  which  the  CathoHc  religion  and 
its  monastics  were  assailed  two  generations  later  by 
dramatists  who  wished  to  please  the  multitude."  ^ 
Now  if  the  Elizabethan  drama  was  thus  conspicuous 
for  its  tolerance,  the  absence  of  bigotry  in  Shake- 

^  *'  Burleigh  and  his  Times,"  Essays,  232,  ed.'^i877. 


CONTBOVERSIAL   DRAMAS  II3 

speare  would  of  course  prove  nothing.  But  the 
reverse  is  the  case.  The  stage  as  a  fact  was  not 
only  a  forum  for  the  political  strife  of  the  period, 
as  we  have  seen  in  the  case  of  the  play  of  "  Richard 
II. ;  "  it  was  also  the  arena  for  theatrical  quarrels,  and 
above  all  for  religious  controversy. 

In  1588,  soon  after  Shakespeare's  arrival  in 
London,  Job  Throckmorton  on  behalf  of  the  Puritans 
attacked  the  Protestant  Episcopacy  in  a  series  of 
pamphlets  entitled  "  Master  Marprelate,"  in  which 
the  Bishops  were  termed  "petty  Antichrists  and 
swinish  rabble."  In  return,  Archbishop  Whitgift 
through  Bancroft  engaged  Nash,  Lily,  Marlowe,  and 
Greene  to  satirise  the  Puritans.  A  series  of 
scurrilous  comedies  followed,  of  so  pungent  a  char- 
acter^ that  the  plays  were  inhibited  and  the 
theatres  in  the  city  were  closed  by  order  of  the 
Lord  Mayor  (Harte),  1589.  One  form  of  reli- 
gion, however,  might  be  safely  vilified  and  ridi- 
culed with  no  danger  of  any  official  interference, 
and  that  was  Catholicism,  as  we  shall  proceed  to 
show. 

"  A  Looking  Glass  for  London,"  written  by  Thomas 
Lodge  and  Robert  Greene,  and  produced  in  1591, 
is  an  instance  of  how  the  stage  was  used  as  a 
Protestant  pulpit.  The  play  is  an  exhortation  to 
London,  under  the  image  of  Nineveh,  to  repent  of 

^  "  A  Whip  for  an  Ape,"  Nash's  "  Countercuffe  to  Martin  Junior," 
"Pasquil's  Return,"  LUy's  '*  Pap  with  a  Hatchet." 

H 


114  CONTEMPORARY   DRAMATISTS 

its  sins.  The  last  act  closes  with  these  words, 
spoken  in  the  character  of  the  prophet  Jonas : — 

"  Repent,  0  London,  lest  for  thine  offence 
Thy  Shepherd  fail,  whom  mighty  God  preserve 
That  she  may  bide  the  pillar  of  His  Church 
Against  the  stones  of  Romish  anti-Christ, 
The  hand  of  mercy  overshade  her  head. 
And  let  all  the  faithful  subjects  say,  Amen  ! " 

Robert  Greene  again  (1593),  in  his  ideal  religion 
which  he  attributes  to  Sir  Christopher  Hatton, 
writes  thus : — 

"  Ne  was  his  faith  in  man's  traditions. 
He  hated  anti-Christ  and  all  his  trash  ; 
He  was  not  led  away  by  superstitions."  ^ 

George  Peele  (1589)  invites  Norris  and  Drake  to 

lead  their  armies 

"To  lofty  Rome, 
There  to  deface  the  pride  of  anti-Christ, 
And  pull  his  paper  walls  and  popery  down, 
A  famous  enterprise  for  England's  strength 
To  steel  your  swords  in  Avarice's  triple  crown, 
And  cleanse  Augean  stables  in  Italy."  ^ 

John  Marston  (1598)  in  his  "Scourge  of  Villany" 
talks  of  peevish  Papists  crouching  and  kneeling 
to  dumb  idols  (Pygmalion),  and  of  the  monstrous 
filth  of  Douay  Seminary.  Christopher  Marlowe 
(1593)  in  his  "Faustus"   exhibits    at  length   the 

1  "A  Maiden's  Dream,"  dedicated  to  Lady  Elizabeth  Hatton. 

1591- 

^  A  farewell  entitled,  •'  To  the  Famous  and  Fortunate  Generals 
of  our  English  Forces."     1589. 


MARLOWE  I  I  5 

superstition,  luxury,  and  mummery  of  the  Pope 
and  "  bald-pate  Friars  whose  summum  honum  is  in 
'  belly  cheer.'  "  Faustus,  invisible,  snatches  away 
at  a  banquet  the  Pope's  favourite  dish  and  gives 
him  a  box  on  the  ear ;  and  the  Friars  set  to  work 
cursing  the  ghostly  thief  "  with  good  devotion." 

"  Bell,  book,  and  candle — candle,  book,  and  bell 
Forward  and  backward  to  curse  Fanstus  to  Hell." 

And  the  whole  crazed,  cursing  pantomime  is  intro- 
duced in  what  the  poet  calls  a  "  Dirge  for  the 
Dead." 

Now  Marlowe,  though  his  maxims  on  religion 
and  morals  are  wholly  unfit  for  publication,  was  by 
no  means  an  ultra-bigot  in  theory.  On  the  con- 
trary he  thought,  according  to  Barne's  information 
to  the  king/  that  if  there  was  any  God  or  good 
religion  it  was  among  the  Papists  [on  account  of 
their  ceremonies],  and  that  all  "  Protestants  were 
hypocritical  asses."  Yet  he  felt  that  he  was  much 
more  likely  to  insure  the  success  of  even  such  a 
solemn  and  powerful  play  as  "  Faust,"  by  introducing 
this  piece  of  anti-papal  burlesque. 

So  again  in  his  "  Massacre  of  Paris,"  published  in 
January  1593,  only  six  months  before  his  death, 
the  poet's  object  evidently  was,  says  Ulrici,  to 
expose  the  ambition  and  the  blind,  bloodthirsty 
fanaticism  of  the  Roman  Catholic  party  of  the  day, 

^  A  note  containing  the  opinion  of  one  Christofer  Marlye  con- 
cerning his  damnable  opinions  and  judgements  on  Relygion  and 
scorne  of  God's  word.     (In  5  Hari.  6858,  fol.  320.) 


Il6  CONTEMPORARY   DRAMATISTS 

and  to  exhibit  in  contrast  Protestantism  in  its 
glory  and  future  prowess.^  In  this  play  the  Pope 
promises  to  ratify  aught  done  in  murder,  mischief, 
and  tyranny,  and  the  Duke  of  Guise  declares  that 
he  has  a  "  Papal  dispensation  "  and  pension  for  the 
murder  of  all  the  Protestants,  which  is  to  be  effected 
by  30,000  Friars  and  Monks  from  the  Monasteries, 
Priories,  Abbeys,  and  Halls. 

Thomas  Dekker  (1600),  who  wrote  in  Shake- 
speare's later  years,  presents  the  same  characteristics. 
The  very  name  of  one  of  his  plays,  "  The  Whore  of 
Babylon,"  sufficiently  tells  its  tale,  without  need  of 
the  introduction  to  inform  us  that  the  general  scope 
of  the  dramatical  poem  is  "  to  set  forth  in  tropical 
and  shadowed  colours  the  greatness  of  our  late 
Queen  .  .  .  and  on  the  contrary  part,  the  inveterate 
malice,  treasons,  machinations,  underminings,  and 
continual  bloody  stratagems  of  the  purple  whore  of 
Rhome." 

The  above  list  of  quotations  might  be  much  aug- 
mented, by  extracts,  for  instance,  from  Webster's 
"White  Devil"  and  Brookes'  "Romeo  and  Juhet," 
but  enough  has,  we  think,  been  said  to  prove  that 
in  the  works  of  Shakespeare's  contemporaries  the 
bitterness  of  Protestant  bigotry  is  apparent.  In 
the  writings  of  Shakespeare,  on  the  other  hand,  as 
will  appear,  there  is  not  a  disrespectful  word  of  the 
ancient  Church. 

We  can,  however,  carry  the   comparison    much 

1  "  Shakespeare's  Dramatic  Art,"  i.  161.     1876. 


KING   JOHN  117 

further.  It  was  Shakespeare's  well-known  custom 
to  alter  and  adapt  existing  plays ;  and  by  comparing 
his  alterations  with  the  original  matter,  we  discover 
the  strength  and  direction  of  his  own  opinions. 
One  play  thus  altered  and  adapted  by  Shakespeare 
is  that  of  "  King  John,"  a  piece  commonly  instanced 
as  proving  beyond  question  Shakespeare's  Protes- 
tantism, especially  in  the  two  speeches  of  King 
John  and  Pandulph.  The  latter,  the  Legate  of 
Innocent  III.,  was  sent  to  call  the  king  to  account 
for  refusing  Stephen  Langton,  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, admission  to  his  See,  and  for  appropriating  its 
revenues.     King  John  replies  thus : — 

"JT.  John.  What  earthly  name  to  interrogatories 
Can  task  the  free  breath  of  a  sacred  King  ? 
Thou  canst  not,  Cardinal,  devise  a  name 
So  slight,  unworthy,  and  ridiculous. 
To  charge  me  to  an  answer,  as  the  Pope. 
Tell  him  this  tale  ;  and  from  the  mouth  of  England 
Add  thus  much  more, — that  no  Italian  priest 
Shall  tithe  or  toll  in  our  dominions  : 
But  as  we  under  Heaven  are  supreme  head 
So,  under  Him,  that  Great  Supremacy, 
Where  we  do  reign,  we  will  alone  uphold, 
Without  the  assistance  of  a  mortal  hand  : 
So  tell  the  Pope,  all  reverence  set  apart 
To  him  and  his  usurp'd  authority"  (iii.  i). 

We  fully  admit  the  bitterness  of  this  speech.  "  No 
good  Protestant,"  as  Gervinus  says,  "  denouncing 
the  Papal  aggression  could  have  represented  more 
agreeably  to  his  audience  the  English  hatred  of 
Papal  intrigue,  of  Italian  indulgences  and  extortion." 


I  I  8  CONTEMPORARY   DRAMATISTS 

These  lines  have  indeed  furnished  quotation  for 
anti- Catholic  declamations  of  Prime  Ministers,  Lord 
Chancellors,  and  Archbishops  in  our  own  time. 
Their  value  as  representing  Shakespeare's  opinions, 
however,  assume  a  different  complexion  if  we  apply 
one  of  Aristotle's  canons  of  criticism,  and  inquire 
not  what  the  speech  is  in  itself,  but  who  spoke  it, 
and  with  what  end  it  was  spoken.  The  language 
and  action  of  a  hero  may  be  supposed  to  represent 
the  poet's  type  of  what  is  good  and  noble,  and 
therefore  of  what  he  would  wish  his  own  language 
and  action  to  be.  The  sentiments  of  a  scoundrel, 
on  the  other  hand,  are  intentionally  drawn  as  false, 
base,  and  treacherous,  and  therefore  presumably  not 
those  of  the  poet's  ideal  self.  Now  we  are  quite 
content  that  Shakespeare  should  be  judged  by  this 
rule  throughout  his  plays,  but  this  rule  must  be 
uniformly  applied.  According  to  some  critics,  if 
Henry  V.  speaks  as  a  Catholic,  this  is  only  from 
dramatic  necessity,  or  because  the  poet  is  following 
"  Hollinshed's  Chronicles,"  and  such  speeches  there- 
fore give  us  no  clue  as  to  his  o^vn  judgment.  Does 
John,  however,  rant  in  true  Exeter  Hall  fashion,  or 
Duke  Humphrey  mahgn  Cardinal  Beaufort,  or  an 
added  scene  by  Fletcher  in  "  Henry  VIII."  extol 
Elizabeth,  there  we  have  the  poet  himself.  With 
such  a  method  of  argument  Shakespeare  can  be 
proved  as  rabid  a  bigot  as  these  writers  desire. 
But  if  the  canon  be  impartially  applied,  an  opposite 
result  is,  we  beheve,  attained. 


bale's    '^KING   JOHN"  II9 

In  this  particular  instance  is  John  a  hero  or  a 
villain  ?  "He  begins,"  says  Kreysig,  "  as  an  ordi- 
nary and  respectable  man  of  the  world,  and  he  ends 
as  an  ordinary  criminal ;  he  is  not  only  a  villain, 
but  a  mean  villain.  The  satanic  grandeur  of  an 
Edmund  or  Macbeth  is  wholly  beyond  him.  His 
criminal  designs  are  pursued  with  the  instinct 
common  to  selfish  natures,  but  without  any  clear, 
far-reaching  intelligence."  ^  His  bold  defiance  proves 
mere  bombast;  he  ends  by  eating  his  words.  He 
humbles  himself  to  the  dust  before  the  Legate,  and 
as  a  penitent  receives  the  crown  again  at  his  hands, 
and  his  kingdom  in  fief  from  the  Pope.  John's 
anti-Catholic  speeches,  then,  no  more  prove  Shake- 
speare a  Protestant  than  the  fool's  saying  in  his 
heart  "  There  is  no  God,"  makes  David  a  sceptic. 

We  now  come  to  the  composition  of  the  original 
play  and  its  alterations  by  Shakespeare.  We  must 
premise  that  the  "  Troublesome  Reign  of  King 
John  "  which  Shakespeare  adapted  must  not  be  con- 
founded with  the  earlier  "  King  John  "  of  "  Bilious  " 
Bale  (1495-1563),  a  quondam  friar  who  took  a 
wife,  became  Protestant  Bishop  of  Ossory,  and  wrote, 
besides  various  acrid  controversial  works,  several 
plays  ^  alike  doggerel  and  indecent. 

1  "Vorlesungen,"  i.  462,  559. 

'  One  of  these  is  entitled  "New  Comedy,  or  Interlude  concern- 
ing the  Three  Laws  of  Nature.  Moses  and  Christ  corrupted  by 
the  Sodomites,  Pharysees,  and  Papists  (1538),  London,  1562"; 
and  offers  further  evidence  of  the  bigotry  exhibited  by  dramatists 
in  Shakespeare's  time. 


120  CONTEMPORARY   DRAMATISTS 

"  The  Troublesome  Reign  of  King  John,"  the 
original  of  Shakespeare's  play,  was  composed,  like 
that  of  Bale,  to  glorify  Protestantism  and  vilify  the 
ancient  faith.  Shakespeare,  in  adapting  it,  had  only 
to  leave  untouched  its  virulent  bigotry  and  its  ribald 
stories  of  friars  and  nuns  to  secure  its  popularity, 
yet  as  a  fact  he  carefully  excludes  the  anti-Catholic 
passages  and  allusions,  and  acts  throughout  as  a 
rigid  censor  on  behalf  of  the  Church.  This  we 
proceed  to  show. 

First,  then,  in  the  defiant  speeches  above  quoted 
he  omits  the  Tudor  claim  of  spiritual  and  temporal 
supremacy,  and  the  gruesome  threat  of  chopping 
heads  off  after  the  manner  of  Henry  VIII.  "  As  I 
am  king  so  will  I  reign  next  under  God.  Supreme 
head  both  over  Spiritual  and  Temporal,  and  he  that 
contradicts  me  in  them  I  will  make  him  hop  head- 
less." Again,  he  suppresses  John's  contemptuous 
reply  to  the  excommunication.  "  So,  Sir,  the  more 
the  fox  is  curst  the  better  it  fares;  if  God  bless 
me  and  my  land,  let  the  Pope  and  his  shavelings 
curse  and  spare  not;"  and  also  his  declared  pur- 
pose of  despoiling  the  Monasteries,  "  rousing  the 
lazy  lubbers  [the  monks]  from  their  cells,"  and 
sending  them  as  prisoners  to  the  Pope.  In  Shake- 
speare's play  King  John  makes  no  reply  to  the 
prelate  after  the  excommunication  is  pronounced, 
and  is  singularly  silent  till  he  threatens  Philip  at 
the  close  of  the  scene.  The  excommunication  itself, 
however,  is  taken  by  Hunter  and  others  as  con- 


THE    ANTI-PAPAL   SPEECH  121 

elusive  proof  of  Shakespeare's  Protestantism.  It 
runs  thus : — 

"  And  blessed  shall  he  be  that  doth  revolt 
From  his  allegiance  to  an  heretic  ; 
And  meritorious  shall  that  hand  be  called, 
Canonised  and  worshipped  as  a  saint, 
That  takes  away  by  any  secret  course 
Thy  hateful  life  "  (iii.  i). 

These  words,  we  admit,  at  first  sight  seem  difficult 
to  reconcile  with  the  theory  of  Shakespeare's  reli- 
gious opinions  which  we  are  defending.  For  here 
it  is  Pandulph,  the  Legate  himself,  who  is  giving 
utterance  to  the  very  doctrines  attributed  to  the 
Church  by  its  enemies.  Nor  is  it  any  answer  to 
say  that  the  speech  was  in  substance  in  the  old 
play,  for  our  point  has  been  that  Shakespeare,  in  so 
far  as  he  follows  the  original  piece,  uniformly  expur- 
gates it  of  any  an ti- Catholic  virus.  Why  then, 
while  rejecting  so  much  which,  as  Gervinus  says, 
was  particularly  agreeable  to  the  Protestant  audiences 
of  the  time,  did  he  allow  this  one  passage  to 
remain  ? 

First,  then,  it  might,  we  think,  be  urged  that  a 
regard  to  his  personal  safety  prompted  the  inclusion 
of  the  speech  in  question.  His  play  of  "  Richard  II." 
had  already,  as  we  have  seen,  been  condemned  as 
treasonable,  and  though  Hayward  was  in  that 
instance  the  victim,  might  not  Shakespeare  himself 
be  the  next  victim,  if  he  left  no  Protestant  senti- 
ment to   satisfy  the  royal  sensitiveness  ?     Such  a 


122  CONTEMPORARY   DRAMATISTS 

motive  is  indeed  unworthy  of  a  bold  and  fearless 
champion  of  the  Faith  ;  but  we  have  neither  regarded 
nor  represented  Shakespeare  in  such  a  light,  but 
rather  as  one  who,  whatever  his  convictions,  was 
desirous,  as  far  as  possible,  of  avoiding  any  suspicion 
of  recusancy.  That  he  did  flatter  Elizabeth  at 
times  there  seems  no  doubt.  The  imperial  votaress 
who  eludes  Cupid's  arrow  and 

"  Passes  on 
In  maiden  meditation,  fancy  free," 

is  universally  understood  of  her,  though,  if  the 
comma  be  omitted,  the  line  might  bear,  as  Simpson 
suggests,  the  very  different  sense  of  a  mind  free 
alike  from  maiden  meditation  or  thoughts  of  hon- 
ourable marriage.  In  any  case,  that  Shakespeare's 
conscience  reproached  him  at  times  with  being 
guilty  of  flattery  and  falsehood  appears  from  his 
confession — 

"  I  have  sworn  tliee  fair,  and  thought  thee  bright, 
Who  art  as  black  as  Hell,  as  dark  as  night." 

— Sonnet  cxlvii. 

But  yet  another  motive  for  the  insertion  of  Pan- 
dulph's  speech  suggests  itself.  Might  not  his  words 
represent  Shakespeare's  own  feeling  with  regard  to 
Elizabeth  ?  The  lawfulness  of  tyrannicide  was  advo- 
cated in  the  sixteenth  century  by  individuals  of  every 
creed,  and,  though  on  entirely  difierent  grounds,  by 
Protestants  of  every  shade,  as  well  as  by  some  Catho- 
lics.   Melanchthon,  the  German  Reformer,  advocated 


ELIZABETH    AND    CATHOLICS  123 

it  in  the  case  of  Henry  VIII. ;  Goodman,  the  Puritan 
Divine,  in  the  case  of  Mary  Tudor  ;  and  John  Kanus, 
the  Calvinist  apostle,  in  that  of  that  "Jezebel" 
Mary  Stuart.^  Some  Catholics,  as  Catesby,  Gresham, 
Digby,  Fawkes,  the  perpetrator  of  the  Gunpowder 
Plot,  were  of  a  similar  opinion  in  the  case  of  James. 
What  then  was  Elizabeth  in  Shakespeare's  judg- 
ment ?  In  the  eyes  of  his  kinsfolk,  friends,  and 
associates  she  was  illegitimate,  excommunicate,  an 
usurping,  cruel  tyrant.  Nor  would  his  reiterated 
condemnation  of  rebellion  in  theory,  as  fatal  to  its 
perpetrators  and  disastrous  in  its  results,  hinder  his 
having  the  warmest  sympathy  with  those  who  pur- 
sued such  a  line  of  action.  Before  the  poet's  mind,  at 
the  thought  of  Elizabeth,  would  have  arisen  a  vision 
of  victims  more  numerous  than  the  spectres  which 
haunted  the  last  moments  of  Richard  III.  Arden 
and  Somerville,  his  connections ;  Francis  Throck- 
morton, so  cruelly  tortured;  Babington  andTichborne, 
his  friends  and  associates ;  Mary  Stuart,  whose  shame- 

^  Hergenrother,  "  Church  and  State,"  ii.  255-259.  The  following 
extract  gives  Mr.  Andrew  Lang's  opinion  on  this  subject:  "We 
cannot  be  sure  that  our  George  Wishart  was  the  man  who  carried 
Brunston's  offer  (to  assassinate  Cardinal  Beaton  for  a  sum  of 
money)  to  Henry  ;  but,  if  he  disapproved  of  such  offers,  he  was 
probably  the  only  public  man  of  the  day  on  either  side  who  looked 
on  assassination  a.s  anything  worse  than  a  legitimate  political 
expedient.  Knox  regarded  it  as  a  thing  highly  laudable  when 
performed,  of  course,  by  his  own  party ;  and  it  was  Knox  who 
carried  the  two-handled  sword  before  Wishart  in  his  preaching 
progresses.  .  .  .  We  can  only  conclude  that  if  Wishart  was  really 
the  agent  of  the  conspirators,  he  was  only  acting  in  accordance 
with  the  murderous  tenets  then  held  and  put  in  practice  by  all 
parties." — St.  Andrews,  140-141. 


124  CONTEMPORARY   DRAMATISTS 

ful  death  is,  according  to  Simpson,  represented  in 
that  of  Arthur  in  this  very  play ;  Essex,  his  leader ; 
all  these  and  many  others  would  arise  and  cry  for 
vengeance.  Did  he  hear  their  voice  ?  We  know- 
not.  But  it  is  significant  that  it  is  a  "  blessed  spirit " 
from  the  other  world  who  lays  upon  Hamlet  the 
command  to  put  to  death  the  incestuous,  usurping 
king,  as  a  solemn  judicial  act  of  retributive  justice ; 
and  Brutus,  the  slayer  of  Caesar,  is  admittedly  the 
noblest  character  in  that  play.  May  not  Richmond's 
description  of  Richard  III.  be  really  Shakespeare's 
judgment  on  the  "  virgin  queen  "  ? 

"  A  bloody  tyrant  and  a  homicide  ; 
One  rais'd  in  blood,  and  one  in  blood  establish'd  ; 
One  that  made  means  to  come  by  what  he  hath, 
And  slaughtered  those  that  were  the  means  to  help  him  ; 
A  base  foul  stone,  made  precious  by  the  foil 
Of  England's  chair,  where  he  is  falsely  set ; 
One  that  hatli  ever  been  God's  enemy  : 
Then  if  you  fight  against  God's  enemy, 
God  will,  in  justice,  ward  you  as  His  soldiers  ; 
If  you  do  sweat  to  put  a  tyrant  down, 
You  sleep  in  peace,  the  tyrant  being  slain." 

— Richard  III.^  v.  3. 

If  these  were  the  poet's  own  feelings  with  respect  to 
Elizabeth,  they  would  gain  weight  by  being  spoken 
by  a  prelate  whom  Shakespeare  portrays  as  a  man 
of  dignity  and  worth.  In  any  case,  the  two  inter- 
pretations suggested  do  not  exclude  each  other,  and 
Pandulph's  speech  may  have  had  the  double  purpose 
of  securing  the  poet's  personal  safety,  and  of  ex- 


PANDULPH  125 

pressing  to  those  who  knew  him  his  oAvn  personal 
condemnation  of  the  Tudor  queen. 

In  the  same  scene  Pandulph  calls  on  King  Philip 
to  break  with  John,  and  declares  the  alliance  sworn 
with  him  void,  but  not,  as  in  the  old  play,  because 
"  the  oath  was  made  with  a  heretic."  This  popu- 
lar calumny  against  Catholic  doctrine  Shakespeare 
utterly  repudiates,  and  instead  he  substitutes  a  careful, 
accurate,  and  detailed  disquisition  on  the  obligations 
of  an  oath,  drawn  out  according  to  the  Church's 
teaching.  An  oath  is  invalid,  Pandulph  says,  when 
it  is  contrary  to  a  former  oath,  or  to  a  prior  moral 
obligation.  On  both  heads  Philip's  oath  to  John 
was  invalid.  It  forswore  his  previous  oath  of 
allegiance  to  the  Church — 

"  Therefore  thy  latter  vow,  against  thy  first, 
Is  in  thyself  rebellion  to  thyself." 

And  again  the  calling  God  to  witness  that  he  would 
attack  the  Church  was  by  its  nature  null  and  void 
as  an  oath. 

"  It  is  religion  that  doth  make  vows  kept, 
But  thou  hast  sworn  against  religion." 

This  is  not  sophistry,  as  Elze  says,  but  sound  morality. 
So  too  is  the  Cardinal's  teaching  that  an  oath,  though 
unlawful  when  sworn  to,  may  by  a  notable  change 
of  circumstance  become  lawful,  and  be  rightly  carried 
out,  not  vi  juramenti,  but  because  of  the  altered 
nature  of  the  act;  while  when  the  matter  of  the 


126  CONTEMPOEARY    DRAMATISTS 

oath  remains  unlawful,  it  is  best  kept  by  non-per- 
formance.^ 

"  For  that,  which  thou  hast  sworn  to  do  amiss, 
Is  not  amiss  when  it  is  truly  done  ; 
And  being  not  done,  where  doing  tends  to  ill, 
The  truth  is  then  most  done  not  doing  it"  (ii.  i). 

Shakespeare  depicts  Arthur,  not  as  in  the  old  play, 
a  determined  claimant  to  the  throne,  resisting  John 
to  the  face  with  set  formal  arguments,  but  as  an 
innocent,  timid  child  devoted  to  his  mother.  "  Oh, 
this  will  make  my  mother  die  with  grief,"  is  his  first 
thought  on  being  made  captive.  He  yearns  for  a 
quiet,  sheltered  life — 

"  So  were  I  out  of  prison,  and  kept  sheep, 
I  should  be  merry  as  the  day  is  long ; 

Is  it  my  fault  that  I  was  Geffrey's  son  ?" 

He  pines  for  some  measure  of  human  affection.  "  I 
would  to  Heaven  I  were  your  son,  so  you  would  love 
me,  Hubert."  This  conception  of  Arthur  increases 
the  horror  of  John's  crime,  and  paints  his  villany  in 
yet  blacker  colours. 

After  his  victory  over  the  French,  John  in  the 
old  play  pours  a  flood  of  jeers  and  invectives  over 
the  "  mischievous  Priest  in  Italy  who  calls  himself 
Christ's  Vicar,"  and  is  now  hard  at  work  with  Dirges, 
Masses,  Octaves,  and  Requiems,  to  assuage  the  flames 

1  On  the  contrary  doctrine  that  an  oath  always  binds,  whatever 
its  nature  may  be,  Herod  would  have  been  bound,  in  deference  to 
bis  oath,  to  slay  St.  John  Baptist. 


Shakespeare's  alterations  127 

of  Purgatory  for  those  who  have  fallen  in  battle. 
To  this  succeeds  a  round  of  abuse  of  those  princes 
who  "  formerly  bore  the  yoke  of  the  servile  priest," 
and  in  foolish  piety  submitted  to  the  See  of  Rome. 
Shakespeare  simply  cuts  out  all  this.  Again  he 
turns  with  disgust  from  the  filthy  cloister  scenes, 
and  the  finding  of  the  nun  Alice  in  the  Abbot's 
treasure-chest,  though  all  this  was,  as  Gervinus  says, 
"  certainly  very  amusing  to  the  fresh  Protestant  feel- 
ings of  the  time."  ^  The  old  play  makes  Pandulph 
a  hypocrite  and  a  Machiavellian  simply  because  he 
is  a  Catholic  prelate.  In  Shakespeare  he  appears  as 
an  experienced,  far-sighted  statesman,  but  also  as  a 
ghostly  Father,  full  of  sympathy  for  the  afflicted. 
He  grieves  for  Arthur's  capture  and  pities  Constance, 
whose  maternal  beautiful  and  pathetic  appeal  proves 
that  she  saw  in  him  a  spiritual  consoler,  and  not  a 
mere  cold-hearted,  calculating  politician — 

"And,  Father  Cardinal,  I  have  heard  you  say 
That  we  shall  see  and  know  our  friends  in  Heaven  : 
If  that  be  true,  I  shall  see  my  boy  again  ; 
For,  since  the  birth  of  Cain,  the  first  male  child, 
To  him  that  did  but  yesterday  suspire. 
There  was  not  such  a  gracious  creature  born. 
But  now  will  canker-sorrow  eat  my  bud, 
And  chase  the  native  beauty  from  his  cheek, 
And  he  will  look  as  hollow  as  a  ghost ; 
As  dim  and  meagre  as  an  ague's  fit ; 
And  so  he'll  die  ;  and,  rising  so  again. 
When  I  shall  meet  him  in  the  court  of  Heaven, 
I  shall  not  know  him  :  therefore,  never,  never 
Must  I  behold  my  pretty  Arthur  more  ! "  (iii.  4). 

^  1.  494  (Burnett's  trans.). 


128  CONTEMPORARY   DRAMATISTS 

Again,  Louis,  though  he  changes  his  tone  afterwards, 
fully  recognises  the  Legate's  spiritual  character — 

"  And  even  there,  metliinks,  an  angel  spake  : 
Look,  where  the  holy  Legate  comes  apace, 
To  give  us  warrant  from  the  hand  of  Heaven  ; 
And  on  our  actions  set  the  name  of  right, 
With  holy  breath  "  (v.  2). 

In  his  speech  to  the  Dauphin  the  Cardinal  shows 
his  political  foresight,  and  his  knowledge  of  the  ways 
of  Providence  in  the  conduct  of  human  affairs.  The 
lost  battle  and  Arthur's  imprisonment  do  not  de- 
ceive him.^  He  knows  "  that  whiles  warm  life  plays 
in  that  infant's  veins  "  John  cannot  enjoy  a  peaceful 
moment — 

'•  That  John  may  stand,  then,  Arthur  needs  must  fall ; 
So  be  it,  for  it  cannot  but  be  so." 

He  foresees  that  the  King's  treatment  of  Arthur 
will  estrange  all  hearts  from  him,  and  beget  a  re- 
bellion against  the  usurper;  and  the  event  fully 
justifies  his  prophecy.  Arthur  is  scarcely  in  the 
King's  power  before  the  latter  has  engaged  his  execu- 
tioner, and  from  that  moment  John  himself  becomes 
the  victim  of  a  vengeful  nemesis.  According  to  Krey- 
sig  and  other  critics,  John's  fall  was  in  no  way  due 
"  to  the  excommunication,  or  the  word  of  the  priest, 
but  merely  to  the  natural  revulsion  of  popular  feeling 
consequent  on  the  murder  of  Arthur.     The  Pope's 

^  We  have  borrowed  largely  from  Raich,  Konig  Johann,  Shake- 
speare's Stellung  zur  Katholischcn  Religion,  1884,  in  our  interpretation 
of  "King  John." 


DIVINE   JUSTICE  1 29 

failure  is  in  fact  a  point  in  the  play."  Yet  the 
Church's  curse  was  believed  in  the  Middle  Ages  to 
be  no  idle  threat.  The  Divine  vengeance  might  be 
delayed,  and  when  it  came  it  might  be  accomplished, 
not  by  any  direct  supernatural  intervention,  but  by 
what  seemed  merely  natural  means ;  still  its  fulfil- 
ment was  none  the  less  certain.  Shakespeare  knew 
this — 

"  It  is  not  so  with  Him  that  all  things  knows, 
As  'tis  with  us  that  square  our  guess  by  shows  : 
But  most  it  is  presumption  in  us,  when 
The  help  of  Heaven  we  count  the  act  of  men." 

—AlVs  Well  that  Ends  Well,  ii.  i. 

He  develops  his  plot  on  these  lines ;  John  wins  the 
first  battle.  In  the  eyes  of  the  Cardinal  this  victory 
presaged  future  defeat. 

"  No,  no  ;  when  Fortune  means  to  men  most  good, 
She  looks  upon  them  with  a  threatening  eye," 

No  sooner  has  the  seat  of  war  been  shifted  to 
England  than  Fortune  changes.  The  king  is  for- 
saken by  the  nobles,  on  account  both  of  the  ex- 
communication and  of  Arthur's  murder,  and  finds 
himself  vanquished.  Shakespeare  again  cuts  out 
the  following  significant  compliment  to  Henry  VIII.'s 
piety  and  performing  zeal,  addressed  by  John  to 
himself : — 

"  Thy  sinnes  are  farre  too  great  to  be  the  man 
T'  abolish  Pope  and  Poperie  from  thy  Kealme, 
But  in  thy  seate,  if  I  may  guess  at  all, 
A  King  shall  reigne  that  shall  supptesse  them  all." 

I 


130  CONTEMPORARY   DRAMATISTS 

The  prophecy  of  the  Five  Moons  is  stripped  of  its 
anti-Papal  interpretation,  and  again,  when  John  seeks 
reconciliation  with  the  Pope,  he  addresses  the  Legate 
in  variance  with  the  old  play,  without  prejudice  to 
his  kingly  dignity. 

"  Thus  have  1  yielded  up  into  your  hand 
The  circle  of  my  glory." 

Whereupon  Pandulph  gives  him  back  the  crown  with 
these  words : — 

"  From  this  my  hand,  as  holding  of  the  Pope, 
Your  sovereign  greatness  and  authority." 

It  is  no  less  instructive  to  remark  the  poet's 
representation  of  Faulconbridge.  In  the  older  play 
he  rails  at  the  Pope  and  the  Legate,  he  discovers 
the  scandals  and  ludicrous  scenes  in  the  monasteries, 
and  is  never  wearied  of  declaiming  against  the 
arrogance  and  greed  of  Rome.  In  Shakespeare  he 
is  represented  indeed  as  ready  to  levy  contributions 
on  the  monasteries. 

"  Bell,  book,  and  candle  shall  not  drive  me  back 
When  gold  and  silver  beck  me  to  come  on." 

He  is  a  reckless,  careless  soldier,  but  he  is  not  a 
Protestant  bigot.  On  the  contrary,  instead  of  express- 
ing indignant  contempt — as  he  does  in  the  old  play — 
at  John's  submission  to  the  Legate,  by  which  "  friars 
are  made  kings,  and  kings  friars,"  Faulconbridge 
looks  upon  Pandulph  as  the  friend  of  England  and 


THE    DEATH   OF   JOHN  I3I 

an  honourable  peace-maker.  The  anger  of  the 
Bastard  is  reserved  exclusively  for  France  and  the 
Dauphin — 

"  0  inglorious  league  ! 
Shall  we,  upon  the  footing  of  our  land, 
Send  fair-play  orders,  and  make  compromise, 
Insinuation,  parley,  and  base  truce, 
To  arms  invasive  ?    Shall  a  beardless  boy, 
A  cockered  silken  wanton,  brave  our  fields  ? "  (v.  i ). 

And  the  action  of  the  Cardinal  with  the  Dauphin 
justifies  the  Bastard's  view  of  him.  Instead  of 
mutually  cursing  each  other  to  their  "  bellyful "  as 
in  the  old  plays,  in  Shakespeare  the  Cardinal  tells 
the  Dauphin  that  he  looks  at  but  "  the  outside  of 
the  work,"  and  persuades  him  though  victorious  to 
offer  England  terms  of  honourable  peace.  The 
death  of  John  marks  the  final  contrast  between  the 
two  plays.  In  the  older  piece  the  Monk  obtains 
the  Abbot's  blessing  and  the  promise  of  heaven  as 
the  reward  for  murdering  the  King.  John  dies 
ascribing  all  his  miseries  to  his  submission  to  the 
Pope,  and  the  Bastard  stabs  the  Abbot.  In  Shake- 
speare's play  the  murderer,  "  the  resolved  villain,"  is 
alluded  to  in  one  line ;  and  the  Bastard,  instead  of 
expressing  indignation  at  the  crime,  seems  rather  to 
see  in  it  the  punishment  of  a  just  God,  and  prays — 

"  Withhold  thine  indignation,  mighty  Heaven, 
And  tempt  us  not  to  bear  above  our  power  ! " 

Finally,  John   dies,  not   a  defiant   prophet  cursing 


132  CONTEMPORARY    DRAMATISTS 

Rome,  but  desolate  and    despairing,  his  torments 
intensified  by  the  impotent  sympathy  of  his  friends. 

"  There  is  so  hot  a  summer  in  my  bosom 
That  all  my  bowels  crumble  up  to  dust : 

And  none  of  you  will  bid  the  winter  come, 

To  thrust  his  icy  fingers  in  my  maw  ; 

Nor  let  my  kingdom's  rivers  take  their  course 

Through  my  burned  bosom  ;  nor  entreat  the  north. 

To  make  his  bleak  winds  kiss  my  parched  lips 

Within  me  is  a  hell  ;  and  there  the  poison 
Is  as  a  friend  confined  to  tyrannise 
On  unreprievable-condemnfed  blood." 

In  the  Epilogue  Shakespeare  suppresses  a  final 
hit  at  the  Pope,  which  concludes  the  old  play,  and 
terminates  with  the  stirring  words  of  the  true 
patriot  Faulconbridge — 

"  Naught  shall  make  us  rue 
If  England  to  itself  do  rest  but  true  ! " 

Having  now  compared  the  two  plays,  we  can  judge 
of  their  respective  application.  The  moral  of  the 
old  play  was,  that  as  David  was  the  forerunner  of 
Solomon,  so  John  began  the  noble  work  which  was 
to  be  fully  accomplished  by  the  more  worthy  hands 
of  his  descendant  Henry  VIII., 

"  Whose  arms  shall  reach  unto  the  Gates  of  Rome 
And  with  his  feet  tread  down  the  strumpet's  pride, 
That  sits  upon  the  Chair  of  Babylon." 

And    the    play   was    intended    to   keep   alive   the 
burning  hatred  of  Popery,  as  was  the  account  of 


HISTORICAL   PARALLELS  I  33 

the  same  transactions  in  the  "  Homilies."  ^  With 
Shakespeare  all  this  disappears ;  in  his  hands  the 
play  becomes  a  moral  and  political  essay  on  the 
events  and  questions  of  his  time.  The  slaying  of 
Arthur  is  closely  parallel  to  that  of  Mary,  Queen 
of  Scots;  John,  like  Elizabeth,  first  suggests,  then 
commands  the  deed,  afterwards  feigns  horror  at 
its  accomplishment  and  repudiates  the  perpetrators. 
John  disowned  Hubert,  as  Elizabeth  did  Davison,^ 
though  in  both  cases  the  order  for  the  murder  was 
given  under  the  royal  hand  and  seal.  In  fact  Sir 
Amyas  Paulett,  the  governor  of  Fotheringay,  know- 
ing his  mistress's  way,  refused  to  carry  out  Mary's 
execution  till  he  had  Elizabeth's  warrant  for  the 
same,  which  angered  her  much  and  she  complained 
of  him  as  a  "  dainty  precise  fellow  "  for  his  insist- 
ence. Again,  Philip's  disinclination  after  the  loss 
of  Angers,  to  prosecute  the  war  till  the  prospect  of 
Arthur's  death  opens  his  son's  claim  to  the  English 
crown,  resembles  the  delay  of  Philip  II.  of  Spain  to 
make  any  serious  attack  on  England  till  Mary 
Stuart's  death  made  the  Infanta  or  Duke  of  Parma 
possible  claimants  for  the  English  throne.  Louis' 
intended  slaughter  of  his  allies,  the  English  rebel 
nobles,  finds  a  parallel  in  the  reported  intention  of 
the  Duke  of  Medina  Sidonia,  Commander  of  the 
Armada,  who  declared  that,  once  landed  in  England, 
all  Catholics  and  heretics  should  be  one  to  him,  his 

1  Sixth  part  of  the  Sermon  against  Wilful  Rebellion. 

"^  And  as  Bolingbroke  disowned  Exton,  the  murderer  of  Richard  II. 


134  CONTEMPORARY   DRAMATISTS 

sword  would  not  discern  them !  so  that  he  might 
make  way  for  his  master.^ 

But  Shakespeare's  "  King  John  "  extends  beyond 
historical  parallels  and  discusses  principles.  In  the 
case  of  an  unsurping  ruler,  who  is  to  decide  between 
him  and  the  nation  what  power  has  commission, 

"  From  that  supernal  Judge,  that  stirs  good  thoughts 
In  any  breast  of  strong  authority 
To  look  into  the  blots  and  stains  of  right "  i  (ii.  i). 

And  the  answer  is  found  not  in  the  alliance  of 
princes  which  dissolve  when 

♦*  That  smooth-faced  gentleman,  tickling  Commodity, 
Commodity,  the  bias  of  the  world," 

insinuates  the  prospect  of  gain  to  any  of  the  con- 
tracting parties — but  as  we  think  with  Raich,^  in  the 
action  of  the  Legate.  Here  we  disagree  with  Mr. 
Simpson,  who  thinks  the  play  teaches,  among  other 
lessons,  the  futility  of  Papal  interference  in  national 
disputes.  We  know  that  Pandulph  is  regarded 
generally  as  being  also  a  slave  to  commodity,  and  of 
changing  sides  merely  as  suited  the  interests  of  the 
Church.  No  doubt  those  interests  were  first  with 
him,  but  with  them  were  bound  up  the  claims  of 
justice  and  right  and  the  liberties  of  the  people. 
He  is  allied  with  France  to  enforce  John  to  submit, 
but    on  John's  submission    he    orders,   as  he    was 

^  Watson's  "  Important  Considerations,"  73. 

*  Shakespeare's  SUllung  zur  Katholischen   lieliyion,    167.      Maintz, 
1884. 


FALSTAFF  I  3  5 

bound,  the  Dauphin  to  withdraw  his  invading  force. 
His  mission  is  completely  successful.  England  is 
reconciled  to  the  Church,  France  and  England  are 
friends  again,  the  rebel  nobles  are  pardoned,  the 
rightful  heir  ascends  the  English  throne,  and  all 
this  is  effected  by  the  offices  of  the  Legate  and  the 
action  of  Faulconbridge,  the  typical  Englishman,  of 
whom  the  poet  is  so  fond.  Shakespeare,  then,  on  our 
view,  appears  to  have  thought  that  the  appeal  to  an 
international  tribunal  in  the  person  of  the  Pope  was 
not  without  its  advantages  ;  that  the  disputes  be- 
tween people  and  rulers,  or  between  rival  sovereigns, 
found  safer,  speedier,  and  more  equitable  adjustment 
when  settled  by  a  recognised  arbitrator,  himself  the 
common-head  of  Christendom,  than  when  decided 
between  the  contending  parties  themselves  by  re- 
bellion or  war. 

Shakespeare's  Falstaff  affords  another  striking 
proof  of  the  difference  between  the  attitude  of 
Shakespeare  and  that  of  his  Protestant  contem- 
poraries towards  religious  questions. 

Moreover  the  stage  history  of  Falstaff  furnishes 
evidence  as  to  the  judgment  passed  by  the  con- 
temporary public  on  Shakespeare's  religious  sym- 
pathies. 

The  identity  of  Falstaff  is  disputed,  but  un- 
doubtedly in  "  I  Henry  IV."  he  was  originally  named 
Sir  John  Oldcastle,  for  Henry  calls  him  "  My  old 
lad  of  the  Castle,"  and  the  play  at  first  bore  that 
title.     Now  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  Lord  Cobham,  who 


I3<^  CONTEMPORARY   DRAMATISTS 

assumed  that  title  through  marrying  an  heiress  of 
the  Cobham  family,  was  a  notorious  Lollard  leader, 
and  in  the  reign  of  Henry  V.  twice  raised  an  insur- 
rection of  that  party.  The  risings  failed,  Oldcastle 
was  apprehended,  while  Henry  was  in  France,  found 
guilty  by  Parhament  of  heresy  and  treason,  and 
put  to  death  at  the  stake.  The  character  of  his 
religion  was  sufficiently  shown  by  the  blasphemous 
and  indecent  writings  found  in  his  hiding-place  after 
his  capture,  yet  he  was  canonised  by  Bale  and  Fox 
as  a  Puritan  or  Protestant  martyr.  Did  Shake- 
speare then  intend  to  reproduce  the  Lollard  champion 
in  Falstaff?  The  Epilogue  of  "2  Henry  IV."  is 
quoted  as  proving  the  contrary,  where  it  says,  "  Fal- 
staff may  appear  again  and  die  of  a  sweat,  unless 
he  be  already  killed  by  your  hard  opinions,  for 
Oldcastle  died  a  msLTtyr,  and  this  is  not  the  man ! " 
But  these  words  are  not  conclusive.  It  is  quite 
possible  that  Shakespeare's  caricature  of  a  Protes- 
tant hero  gave  offence,  and  that  he  felt  constrained 
to  expressly  deny  the  identity  of  Falstaff  and  Old- 
castle, while  the  proof  which  he  advanced  in  sup- 
port of  his  denial — viz.  that  Oldcastle  died  a  martyr, 
was  nothing  more  than  irony.  In  any  case,  the 
popular  mind  was  so  strongly  convinced,  in  spite 
of  the  changed  title  of  the  play,  that  Falstaff  was 
Oldcastle,  that  in  November  i  599,  Anthony  Munday, 
Michael  Drajrton,  R.  Wilson,  and  R.  Hathwaye 
brought  out  their  play  of  "  The  History  of  Sir  John 
Oldcastle,  the  good  Lord  Cobham,"  to  rehabilitate 


THE    ''LOLLARD   MARTYR"  137 

Sir  John  in  public  estimation,  and  in  1600  they 
published  it  with  Shakespeare's  name  on  the  title- 
page,  a  forgery  which  they  were  obliged  almost 
immediately  to  suppress.  Their  Prologue  expressly 
warns  the  audience  of  what  they  were  not  to 
expect — 

"  The  doubtful  title,  gentlemen,  prefixed 
Upon  the  argument  we  have  in  hand, 
May  breed  surprise,  and  wrongfully  disturb 
The  peaceful  quiet  of  your  settled  thoughts. 
To  stop  which  scruple  let  this  brief  suffice  ; 
It  is  no  pampered  glutton  we  present. 
Nor  aged  counsellor  to  youthful  sin  ! 
But  one  whose  virtue  shone  above  the  rest, 
A  valiant  martyr.  .  .  . 
.  .  ,  Let  fair  truth  be  graced 
Since  forged  invention  former  time  defaced."  ^ 

The  fair  fame  of  the  martyr  had  been  disgraced 
by  a  calumnious  description  of  him  as  a  pampered 
glutton,  and  an  aged  counsellor  to  youthful  sin ! 
This  is  an  evident  allusion  to  the  words,  "That 
villanous,  abominable  misleader  of  youth,  Fal- 
staiF,  that  old  white-bearded  Satan."  In  the  play, 
mention  is  made  of  Falstaff,  but  only  with  the  view 
to  separating  his  personality  more  completely  from 
the  hero  Oldcastle,  who  is  made  a  model  of  a  fine 
old  English  gentleman — charitable,  chivalrous,  and 
slightly  given  to  preaching.  The  ruffian  of  the  play 
is  a  priest.  Sir  John  of  Wrotham,  who  combines 
with  his  sacerdotal  character  the  part  of  a  highway- 

^  In  the  original  quartos  Falstaff  is  more  profane  than  in  the 
modem  editions  copied  from  the  folio  of  1623. 


138  CONTEMPORARY   DRAMATISTS 

man  on  Blackheath,  in  company  with  a  disreputable 
woman.^  The  priest  is  in  fact  a  grosser  compound 
of  iniquity  than  Falstaff,  but  without  the  latter's  wit. 
The  villain  is  the  Bishop  of  Rochester,  an  impersona- 
tion of  the  stage  Jesuit  of  the  day.  The  drama 
is  quite  vixenish  in  its  Protestantism.  It  would  be 
difficult  to  say  why  the  rehabilitation  of  Oldcastle 
should  have  been  made  in  this  spirit  of  tit-for-tat,  if, 
as  is  asserted,  there  had  been  no  intention  manifested 
in  Shakespeare's  play  of  slandering  his  memory. 
Whether  the  Falstaff  of  "  Henry  IV."  had  ever  been 
called  Oldcastle  or  not,  it  is  perfectly  certain  that  as 
late  as  1599  theatrical  audiences  still  understood 
that  Falstaff  stood  for  Oldcastle. 

Shakespeare's  portrait  of  Falstaff  as  a  Puritan 
and  sanctimonious  hypocrite  is  in  keeping  with  his 
ordinary  treatment  of  that  sect,  and  explains  why 
the  pubHc  so  readily  identified  Falstaff  in  that 
character.  The  pharisaical  Lord  Angelo  is  out- 
wardly a  "sainted  deputy,  within  foul  as  hell." 
Justice  Shallow,  the  Puritan — a  portrait  drawn  from 
Justice  Lucy — is  austere-looking,  mere  flesh  and 
bone,  "  a  forked  radish  " — yet  Falstaff  says  of  him, 
"  This  same  starved  justice  hath  done  nothing  but 
prate  to  me  of  the  wildness  of  his  youth  and  the 
feats  he  hath  done,  yet  every  third  word  a  lie." 
So  in  "  Twelfth  Night,"  Malvolio  is  outwardly  morose, 
secretly  amatory.  Now  Falstaff  is  drawn  on  these 
lines  and  is  essentially  Shakespeare's  own  creation. 

1  The  Doll  Tearsheet  of  Shakespeare's  play. 


USE    OF   SCRIPTURE  139 

In  the  "  Famous  Victories,"  from  which  Shakespeare 
borrowed  incidents  for  his  tAvo  parts  of  "  Henry  IV.," 
Oldcastle  appears  as  one  of  the  boon  companions  of 
the  wild  Prince,  but  his  part  is  quite  insignificant. 
He  opens  his  mouth  on  two  occasions  only.  He 
goes  to  visit  the  Prince,  who  is,  as  he  supposes,  in 
prison,  for  boxing  the  Chief-Justice's  ears ;  he  meets 
Hal  by  the  way  and  says,  "  I  am  glad  to  see  your 
Grace  at  liberty;  I  was  come,  I,  to  visit  you  in 
prison."  Hal  makes  an  answer  which  concludes 
with  the  statement  "  that  if  the  old  king  were  dead, 
all  should  be  kings."  To  which  Oldcastle,  "  He 
is  a  good  old  man :  God  take  him  to  His  mercy 
sooner."  From  these  bare  hints  Shakespeare  seems 
to  have  derived  the  idea  of  painting  a  hoary 
hypocrite,  leading  his  companions  to  sin,  yet  des- 
canting the  while  on  virtue;  and  such  at  least  is 
Falstaff  in  the  first  part  of  "Henry  IV"  His 
speeches  and  repartees  teem  with  scriptural  allu- 
sions— the  special  characteristic  of  the  Lollards, 
who  made  the  Bible  the  weapon  of  their  attack 
against  Church,  Priests,  and  property  —  and  his 
arguments  abound  with  that  peculiar  amplification 
and  affectation  of  Hebrew  parallelism  distinctive 
of  Puritan  pulpit  oratory.  We  will  quote  some  of 
them. 

He  poses  as  the  defender  of  Hal's  character,  and 
the  victim  of  his  evil  ways. 

Ad  i.  sc.  2. — "  An  okl  Lord  of  the  Council  rated  me  the 
other  day  in  the  street  about  you,  Sir ;  but  I  regarded  him 


140  CONTEMPORARY   DRAMATISTS 

not:  and  yet  he  talked  very  wisely;  but  I  regarded  him 
not;  and  yet  he  talked  wisely,  and  in  the  street  too 
(Prov.  i.  20).  .  .  .  Thou  art  able  to  corrupt  a  saint.  Thou 
hast  done  much  harm  upon  me,  Hal — God  forgive  thee  for 
it!  Before  I  knew  thee,  Hal,  I  knew  nothing;  and  now 
am  I,  if  a  man  should  speak  truly,  little  better  than  one 
of  the  wicked.  .  .  .  I'll  be  damned  for  never  a  king's  son 
in  Christendom." 

Then  comes  a  gibe  at  free-will  and  good  works  in 
the  person  of  Poins — 

**If  men  were  to  be  saved  by  merit,  what  hole  in  hell 
were  hot  enough  for  Poins?  (who  calls  himself  Monsieur 
Remorse)." 

Again  to  Poins,  on  his  undertaking  to  enlist  the 
Prince  in  the  Gad's  Hill  robbery,  is  addressed  a 
travesty  of  St.  Paul's  words  to  the  Romans  ^- 

"May'st  thou  have  the  spirit  of  persuasion,  and  he  the 
ears  of  profiting,  that  what  thou  speakest  may  move,  and 
what  he  hears  may  be  believed,"  &c.  (Rom.  x.  14,  17). 

His  marvellous  expostulation  with  Hal  teems 
with  texts. 

Act  ii.  sc.  4. — "  I  would  I  were  a  weaver !  I  could 
sing  psalms  (James  v.  13)  or  anything.  .  .  .  Clap  to  the 
doors :  watch  to-night,  pray  to-morrow  (Mark  xiv.  38),  a 
plague  of  sighing  and  grief !  it  blows  a  man  up  like  a 
bladder.  .  .  .  There  is  a  thing,  Harry,  which  thou  hast 
often  heard  of,  and  it  is  known  to  many  in  our  land  by  the 
name  of  pitch :  this  pitch,  as  ancient  writers  do  report,  doth 
defile  (Eccles.  xiii.  i,  7),  so  doth  the  company  thou  keepest 
— for  Harry,  now  I  do  not  speak  unto  thee  in  drink,  but 


FALSTAFFS    ATTRACTIVENESS  I4I 

in  tears;  not  in  pleasure,  but  in  passion;  not  in  words 
only,  but  in  woes  also  (Rom.  xiii.  13).  I  see  virtue  in 
his  looks.  If  then  the  tree  may  be  known  by  the  fruit, 
as  the  fruit  by  the  tree  (Matt.  xii.  33),  then,  peremptorily 
I  speak  it,  there  is  virtue  in  that  Falstafif.  ...  If  to  be 
old  and  merry  be  a  sin,  then  many  an  old  host  that  I 
know  is  damned :  but  if  to  be  fat  is  to  be  hated,  then 
Pharaoh's  lean  kine  are  to  be  loved"  (Gen.  xli.  19). 

Of  Bardolph's  red  nose  and  face  he  says — 

Act  iii.  sc.  3. — "  I  never  see  thy  face  but  I  think  upon  hell- 
fire,  and  Dives  that  lived  in  purple  (Luke  xvi.  19).  Thou 
knowest  in  the  state  of  innocency,  Adam  fell;  and  what  would 
poor  Jack  Falstaff  do  in  the  days  of  villany  ?  Thou  seest 
I  have  more  flesh  than  another  man;  and  therefore  more 
frailty." 

Act  iv.  sc.  2. — "Slaves  as  ragged  as  Lazarus  in  the 
painted  cloth,  where  the  glutton's  dogs  licked  his  sores 
.  .  .  tattered  prodigals,  lately  come  from  swine-keeping, 
from  eating  draff"  and  husks  "  (Luke  xv.  19). 

What  then,  it  may  be  asked,  was  the  secret 
of  his  influence  and  the  fascination  he  exer- 
cised over  Prince  Hal.  Falstaff  was  not  merely 
a  sanctimonious  hypocrite  like  Angelo  or  Malvolio, 
nor  a  common  sensualist  or  coward  or  braggart 
like  Pistol,  Nym,  or  Bardolph ;  but  he  was  an 
extraordinary  compound  of  opposites,  ^  and  he 
could  exhibit  either  side  at  once  in  perfection  and 
with  the  most  complete  propriety,  much  as  we  may 
suppose  Leicester  did.     An  arrant  coward,  yet  he 

^  Cf.  Maurice  Morgann,  "Essay  on  the  Character  of  Sir  John 
Falstaff."    1787. 


142  CONTEMPORARY   DRAMATISTS 

could  draw  his  rapier  and  clear  Dame  Quickly's 
parlour;  a  consummate  liar,  yet  a  great  stickler 
for  truth.  A  wild  braggart,  he  could  draw  dis- 
tinctions and  deny  the  major  of  a  syllogism  with 
the  accuracy  of  a  logician.  Old  in  years,  and  fat, 
yet  he  could  always  pose  as  a  leader  of  youth. 
Constantly  duped,  he  was  ever  outwitting  others. 
His  versatility  and  powers  of  subterfuge  and 
excuse  were  simply  inexhaustible.  To  the  Chief- 
Justice's  reproach  for  his  scandalous  life,  seeing  his 
grey  hairs  and  that  every  part  of  him  was  blasted 
with  antiquity,  he  replied  that  he  was  born  at 
three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  with  white  hair  and 
a  round  belly,  and  had  cracked  his  voice  with 
singing  anthems;  that  he  was  old  only  in  judg- 
ment and  understanding  (i  Cor.  xiv.  20),  and 
could  caper  any  man  for  a  thousand  marks.  He 
excused  his  flight  at  Gad's  Hill  by  saying  that 
he  was  as  valiant  as  a  lion,  a  Hercules  by  nature, 
but  a  coward  by  instinct,  and  that  it  was  instinct 
which  forbade  him  touching  a  true  Prince.  Though 
he  had  led  Henry  into  every  kind  of  dissipation, 
he  could  personate  Henry  IV.  at  a  moment's  notice 
and  draw  tears  from  his  hearers  by  the  pathetic, 
dignified  reproof  he  administered  to  the  young 
scapegrace,  while  he  admonishes  him  to  keep  one 
companion  if  he  would  persevere  in  virtue — "  a  good 
portly  man.  I  remember  his  name  is  Falstaff."  And 
he  could  act  the  part  of  a  virtuous  man  perfectly. 
Mrs.  Ford    says    of   him,   "  He   would    not    swear ; 


DISMISSED   THE    COURT  1 43 

praised  women's  modesty,  and  gave  such  orderly 
and  well-behaved  reproof  to  all  unseemliness,  that 
I  would  have  sworn  his  disposition  would  have 
gone  to  the  truth  of  his  words,  but  they  do  no 
more  adhere  and  keep  place  together  than  the 
looth  Psalm  to  the  tune  of  'Green  Sleeves.'" 
Falstaff  is  impudently  shameless  only  with  those 
who  know  him  well,  and  whom  he  knows  have 
seen  through  him.  With  strangers  he  is  modest, 
cajoling,  adroit,  even  edifying  and  devout.  "  He 
is,"  as  he  says,  "  Jack  with  his  familiars,  John  with 
his  brothers,  and  Sir  John  with  all  the  world." 

Such  was  the  man  who  exercised  such  a  baneful 
spell  over  Prince  Henry  in  his  youth,  but  the  hour 
of  grace  struck  and  Henry  obeyed.  It  was  a  call 
to  his  duty  as  a  king,  and  his  manhood  awoke  to 
its  true  dignity.  The  change  in  him  was  to  be 
no  half  measure  but  complete,  and  Avhen  Falstaif 
approached,  befoohng,  he  was  met  with  that  word 
from  Henry. 

"  I  know  thee  not,  old  man  :  fall  to  thy  prayers  ; 
How  ill  white  hairs  become  a  fool,  and  jester  ! 
I  have  long  dreamed  of  such  a  kind  of  man, 
So  surfeit,  swell'd,  so  old,  and  so  profane  ; 
But  being  awake,  I  do  despise  my  dream. 
Make  less  thy  body,  hence,  and  more  thy  grace  ; 
Leave  gormandising  ;  know  the  grave  doth  gape 
For  thee  thrice  wider  than  for  other  men. 
Reply  not  to  me  with  a  fool-born  jest ; 
Presume  not  that  I  am  the  thing  I  was  : 
For  God  doth  know,  so  shall  the  world  perceive, 
That  I  have  turned  away  my  former  self  ; 
So  will  I  those  that  kept  me  company." 


144  CONTEMPORARY   DRAMATISTS 

And  he  forbids  him  to  approach  within  ten  miles 
of  his  person,  but  makes  him  a  suitable  allow- 
ance, and  promises  him  advancement  if  he  tries 
to  reform. 

Falstaff  never  reappears,  but  we  read  of  his  death.^ 
The  classic  scene  in  Dame  Quickly's  house — his 
nose  sharp  as  a  pen,  and  a  babbling  of  green  fields, 
fumbling  with  the  sheets  and  smiling  at  his  fingers' 
ends ;  and  he  cried  out,  "  God  !  God !  God ! "  three 
or  four  times,  and  "  I  to  comfort  him  bade  him  not 
think  of  God."  .  .  .  "  So  a  bade  me  lay  more  clothes 
on  his  feet.  And  I  put  my  hand  into  his  bed  and 
felt  them,  and  they  were  cold  as  any  stone."  And 
he  said,  "  the  devil  would  have  him  about  women." 
And  he  talked  about  the  "  Whore  of  Babylon,"  the 
common  Puritan  term  for  Rome.  The  old  vice,  the 
old  cant,  and  the  grip  of  death  silencing  both.  The 
Lollard  martyr  preaches  indeed  to  the  very  end. 

With  Falstaff  we  will  conclude  our  comparison 
of  Shakespeare  and  his  contemporaries.  We  have 
as  we  think  sufficiently  shown  that  the  poet  defends 
the  doctrines  and  ministers  of  the  Church,  while 
his  tellow  -  dramatists  reviled  them,  and  that  his 
satire  of  one  at  least  of  the  Protestant  heroes  of 

1  Falstaff 's  death  is  related  in  "  Henry  V.,"  scene  3.  The  Falstaff 
resuscitated  in  the  subsequent  play  of  the  "Merry  Wives  of  Wind- 
sor "  is  merely  an  amorous  old  fool,  the  butt  and  dupe  of  his  in- 
tended victims.  The  character  was  created  at  Elizabeth's  bidding, 
to  show  the  fat  knight  in  love,  the  one  part  she  would  have  known, 
had  she  understood  him,  he  could  not  possibly  perform.  Cf.  Braun's 
"  Shakespeare,"  i.,  244. 


POINT   OF   THE   SATIEE  I45 

the  day,  in  the  person  of  the  fat  knight,  was  so 
keen  and  well  directed  that  the  supporters  of  the 
new  creed  felt  themselves  bound  to  undertake  their 
champion's  defence.  Thus  in  attack  as  in  defence 
Shakespeare  stands  alone  to  manifest  his  sympathies 
with  the  ancient  faith. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ENGLISH    HISTORICAL    PLAYS. 

The  English  historical  plays  extend  with  broken 
intervals  from  the  reign  of  King  John  to  that  of 
Henry  VIII.  They  may  be  regarded,  therefore,  as 
embracing  a  period  marked  by  the  rise,  establish- 
ment, and  fall  of  the  feudal  system  in  England. 
Shakespeare's  chief,  if  not  sole,  authority  is  "  Hol- 
Hnshed's  Chronicles  " ;  but  the  pre-existing  matter  is 
fused  in  the  crucible  of  the  poet's  genius,  and  recast 
according  to  the  requirements  of  the  historic  drama. 
In  a  composition  of  this  kind  the  events  themselves, 
their  chronological  sequence,  their  mutual  relation 
and  development,  the  historical  reahty  of  the  char- 
acters as  adapted  to  the  personages  named,  are  of 
comparative  unimportance.  The  aim  of  the  dra- 
matist is  not  to  narrate  in  order  transient  and  con- 
tingent facts,  but  to  portray  what  is  permanent  and 
necessary,  the  true  principles  of  life  and  conduct, 
the  spirit  working  within,  which  is  manifested  only 
partially  in  outward  effects. 

The  historic  plays  are  not  then  intended  to  repre- 
sent an  accurate  chronicle  of  the  past.     Indeed,  in 

some  instances,  the  poet  notably  departs  from  the 

146 


IDEA   OF   ROYALTY  147 

region  of  fact.  As  elsewhere  he  imparts  Christian 
thought  to  Pagan  times,  so  here,  as  in  King  John, 
Protestant  ideas  are  found  in  a  Catholic  age.  He 
misrepresents  individual  characters  and  commits 
many  anachronisms,  but  all  the  while  he  perfectly 
delineates  the  constituent  elements  of  the  ideas  or . 
institutions  his  personages  are  intended  to  portray. 
Thus  the  prerogatives  of  royalty,  their  source,  nature, 
and  extent,  the  conditions  of  its  lawful  tenure ;  the 
position  and  duties  of  the  nobles;  the  relations  of 
the  Church  to  the  State ;  the  reasons  which  justify 
rebellion;  the  shibboleths  of  the  popular  dema- 
gogue, the  causes  of  a  nation's  decay,  these  and 
other  important  elements  of  statecraft  appear  in  the 
historic  plays. 

The  poet's  teaching  on  the  source,  prerogative, 
and  restrictions  of  royalty  is  very  explicit.  The 
king  is  the  deputy,  anointed  by  Heaven,  and  rules 
only  in  God's  name.  He  is  the  steward  or  minister 
of  the  divine  law,  and  cannot  be  deposed  by  his 
subjects  as  if  he  were  merely  their  delegate  or 
executor.  Thus  the  Bishop  of  Carlisle  asks,  regard- 
ing the  proposed  deposition  of  Richard  II. : — 

"  And  shall  the  figure  of  God's  Majesty, 
His  Captain,  Steward,  Deputy,  elect. 
Anointed,  crowned,  planted  many  years. 
Be  judg'd  bj  subject  and  inferior  breath  ? " 

— Richard  IL,  iv.  i. 

The  anointing  of  the  sovereign,  in  the  ceremony 
of  consecration,  was  not  in  the  poet's  mind  a  mere 


148  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

form,  but  a  sacred  function,  conferring  real  power 
from  God,  and  ensuring  the  divine  protection. 
Thus  Richard  exclaims  : — 

"  Not  all  the  water  in  the  rough,  rude  sea 
Can  wash  the  balm  from  an  anointed  king  : 
The  breath  of  worldly  men  cannot  depose 
The  deputy  elected  by  the  Lord  : 
For  every  man  that  Bolingbroke  hath  press'd 
To  lift  shrewd  steel  against  our  golden  crown, 
God  for  His  Richard  hath  in  heavenly  pay 
A  glorious  angel :  then,  if  angels  fight, 
Weak  men  must  fall :  for  heaven  still  guards  the  right." 

— Ibid.j  iii.  2. 

It  was  indeed  the  common  Catholic  doctrine  that 
while  the  King  obtained  the  jus  ad  rem,  the  right  to 
reign  or  his  title  to  the  crown,  by  inheritance  or 
election,  his  possession  of  the  crown  or  his  actual 
reign.  Jus  in  re,  began  with  the  sacred  unction, 
which  was  administered  only  after  the  coronation 
oath  had  been  taken.^  Elizabeth  and  her  advisers 
recognised  the  necessity  of  conforming,  at  least  out- 
wardly, to  this  function,  as  establishing  beyond 
question  her  right  to  the  crown.  She  took  the 
usual  oath  of  Christian  sovereigns  to  defend  the 
CathoUc  faith  and  to  guard  the  rights  and  immu- 
nities of  the  Church,  and  was  duly  anointed.  But 
when  she  withdrew  to  be  vested  in  the  royal  robes, 
she  is  reported  to  have  said  to  her  ladies-in-waiting, 
"  Away  with  you,  this  oil  is  stinking."  ^ 

1  Hergenrother,  "  Church  and  State,"  Engl,  trans.,  i.  261. 
-  Sanders,  "Anglican  Schism,"  243.     1877. 


149 

In  keeping  with  the  sanctity  which  the  poet 
attaches  to  the  consecration  of  a  king,  is  the  testi- 
mony he  gives  to  the  miraculous  power  attributed 
to  sovereigns  of  healing  by  their  touch  the  disease 
known  as  "  king's  evil."  In  "  Macbeth "  he  intro- 
duces the  following  scene,  in  no  way  required  by 
the  dramatic  development  of  the  play,  to  relate  the 
miraculous  and  prophetic  gifts  of  St.  Edward,  and 
he  brings  in  a  physician  to  testify  to  the  super- 
natural character  of  the  cures  effected : — 

"  Malcolm.  Comes  the  king  forth,  I  pray  you  ? 

Doctor.  Ay,  Sir  :  there  are  a  crew  of  wretched  souls. 
That  stay  his  cure  :  their  malady  convinces 
The  great  assay  of  art ;  but  at  his  touch, 
Such  sanctity  hath  Heaven  given  in  his  hand, 
They  presently  amend. 

Malcolm.  I  thank  you,  Doctor. 

Macduff.  What's  the  disease  he  means  ? 

Malcolm.  'Tis  called  the  *  evil ' : 

A  most  miraculous  work  in  this  good  king  : 
Which  often,  since  my  here-remain  in  England, 
I  have  seen  him  do.     How  he  solicits  Heaven, 
Himself  best  knows  :  but  strangely-visited  people, 
All  swoln  and  ulcerous,  pitiful  to  the  eye, 
The  mere  despair  of  surgery,  he  cures  ; 
Hanging  a  golden  stamp  about  their  necks. 
Put  on  with  holy  prayers  :  and  'tis  spoken, 
To  the  succeeding  royalty  he  leaves 
The  healing  benediction.     With  this  strange  virtue, 
He  hath  a  heavenly  gift  of  prophecy  ; 
And  sundry  blessings  hang  about  his  throne. 
That  speak  him  full  of  grace." — Macbeth,  iv.  3. 

James  I.  is  said  by  Davenant  to  have  written 
Shakespeare  an  autograph  letter  of  thanks  for  this 


ISO  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

passage.  It  is  no  argument,  however,  against  the 
reality  of  the  gift  that  non-CathoHc  kings  should 
have  claimed  to  possess  it.  Healing,  as  well  as 
prophecy,  belongs  to  that  class  of  gifts  termed 
gratise  gratis  datse,  or  gifts  given  for  the  benefit  of 
others,  which  are  conferred  independently  of  the 
sanctity  of  their  recipient.^  Balaam  prophesied,  so 
did  Caiaphas,  as  the  Gospel  expressly  tells  us.^  The 
"  golden  stamp  "  of  the  passage  just  quoted  refers  to 
the  gold  medals  which,  according  to  the  records  of  the 
Tower,  Edward  I.  in  1272  gave  to  the  sick  persons 
he  had  touched.  Dr.  Johnson,  when  an  infant  three 
years  old,  was  himself  touched  for  "the  evil"  by 
Queen  Anne,  of  whom  he  had  a  solemn  recollection 
"  as  of  a  lady  in  diamonds  and  a  long  black  hood." 
The  experiment  was  made  on  the  advice  of  Sir  John 
Floyer,  a  celebrated  physician  of  Lichfield.^  Dean 
Swift  is  also  said  to  have  beHeved  in  the  virtue  of 
the  regal  touch.*  The  Protestant  sovereigns  from 
Queen  Ehzabeth  omitted  the  sign  of  the  Cross  in 
the  ceremony. 

Although  the  sovereign's  right  to  rule  is  from 
God,  that  right  is  conditioned,  like  that  of  any 
other  human  authority,  by  his  exercising  his  power 
according  to  the  divine  law,  whose  administrator 
he  is.     Even  Kichard  II.  recognises  this  clearly. 


1  Matt.  vii.  22,  23. 

-  John  xi.  51. 

»  Boswell's  "  Life  of  Johnson,"  i.  13. 

*  Wilkes'  "  Shakespeare,-'  329. 


L 


FORFEITUKE    OF   THE    CROWN  151 

"  Show  us  the  hand  of  God, 
That  hath  dismiss'd  us  from  our  stewardship  ; 
For  well  we  know,  no  hand  of  blood  and  bone 
Can  gripe  the  sacred  handle  of  our  sceptre, 
Unless  he  do  profane,  steal,  or  usurp." 

— Richard  II.,  iii.  3. 

How  far,  in  the  eyes  of  tlie  poet's  friends  and 
associates,  Henry  VIII.  or  Elizabeth  had  been 
guilty  of  these  three  offences — profaning,  stealing, 
usurping — has  been  already  shown.  As  a  rule,  the 
poet  seems  to  regard  the  deposition  of  a  tyrannical 
or  corrupt  ruler,  not  as  a  right  for  courts  to  enforce, 
but  as  a  fatal  and  natural  consequence  of  his  mis- 
deeds. This  is  so  in  the  case  of  King  John ;  and 
the  same  apparently  natural  nemesis  is  seen  in 
the  close  of  the  reigns  of  Richard  II.,  Henry  VI., 
and  Richard  III.  The  nobles  and  people  are 
alienated  by  misgovernment  and  crime :  the  crown^ 
ing  delinquency  is  often  the  murder  of  the  heir 
to  the  throne,  as  in  the  case  of  both  King  John 
and  Richard  III.  Henry  VI.,  by  disinheriting  his 
son,  really  decrees  his  own  downfall.  The  murder 
of  Richard  II.  brands  the  conscience  not  only  of 
Henry  IV.  but  also  of  Henry  V.  What  Shake- 
speare's judgment  was,  as  we  suppose,  of  Elizabeth's 
judicial  murder  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  has  been 
already  stated. 

After  the  murder  or  disinheriting  of  the  rightful 
heir,  the  prince's  abuses  of  his  power  are  ordinarily 
the  causes  of  his  fall.  Disregard  of  the  rights  of 
land   tenure,  "farming  his   realm,"   as  if   he  were 


152  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

"  landlord,  not  King  of  England,"  and  "  binding  the 
whole  land  with  rotten  parchment  bonds";  in- 
justice to  the  nobles,  fining  them  for  old  quarrels ; 
the  encouragment  of  flatterers  and  favourites, 
"  caterpillars  who  waste  the  State " ;  emplojmient 
of  suborned  informers ;  unjust  and  oppressive 
taxation  of  the  Commons,  with  new  exactions  such 
as  "  blanks  and  benevolences  " ;  inaccurate  budgets 
with  prospective  bankruptcy;  the  favouritism  of 
evil-doers,  only  because  of  their  growing  power ;  the 
waste  of  time  and  opportunities,  to  the  grievous 
injury  of  the  realm — these,  and  such  like  causes, 
produce  the  downfall  of  the  king.  The  royal 
power,  even  when  undefined  by  strict  constitutional 
limits,  carries  with  it  obligations,  for  which  the 
ruler  is  responsible  to  the  nation  and  to  God. 

As  Richard  II.,  though  rightful  king,  loses  his 
throne  by  his  spendthrift,  reckless  course ;  so  Henry 
IV.,  though  an  usurper,  retains  the  crown  he  has 
seized  through  skilful  statecraft.  The  "vile  poli- 
tician, Bolingbroke,"  is  incomparably  a  better  ruler 
than  Richard  was,  or  Hotspur  would  have  been, 
with  his  proposed  division  of  England  into  three 
kingdoms,  a  retrograde  step  towards  another  hep- 
tarchy. In  Bolingbroke's  instructions  to  his  son 
on  the  surest  way  of  establishing  his  throne,  little 
weight  is  attached  to  questions  of  policy,  but  the 
personal  deportment  of  the  prince  is  the  all-im- 
portant matter.  Prince  Henry  is  emulating  Richard 
in    his    downward    course    by   frequenting    vulgar 


BOLINGBKOKE  I  5  3 

company,  "  mingling  his  royalty  with  capering  fools," 
"  making  himself  as  common  as  a  cuckoo  in  June, 
heard  but  not  regarded."  Whereas  BoHngbroke 
showed  himself  but  seldom,  provoked  interest  by 
his  retirement,  and  when  he  did  appear,  his  presence 
was  "like  a  robe  pontifical,  ne'er  seen  but  won- 
dered at."  The  crown  is  thus  considered,  not  as 
a  birthright  or  heirloom,  but  as  the  prize  of  the 
ablest  and  most  popular  competitor.  Bolingbroke's 
intended  crusade,  announced  at  the  end  of  "  Richard 
II."  "  to  wash  the  blood  from  off  his  guilty  head," 
is  continued  in  "  i  Henry  IV.,"  with  the  utilitarian 
purpose  of  knitting  together  the  unravelled  threads 
of  faction  and  making  them  "in  mutual  ranks, 
march  all  one  way." 

In  "  2  Henry  IV. "  the  king's  conscience  is  yet 
more  uneasy,  but  though  repentant,  he  still  looks 
to  securing  to  himself  and  his  family  the  crown 
he  had  usurped.  I'e  comforts  his  son  with  the 
assurance  that  as  he  will  inherit  the  crown  by 
peaceable  succession,  he  will  not  be  obliged,  like 
his  father,  to  cut  off  the  friends  who  had  helped 
him  to  gain  it ;  and  he  again  urges  the  policy  of 
keeping  the  nobles  engaged  in  foreign  wars  till  the 
memory  of  his  defective  title  is  obliterated. 

Shakespeare's  teaching  on  the  conditioned  rights 
of  the  crown,  its  responsibilities  towards  its  subjects, 
and  the  punishment  which  overtakes  an  unjust  or 
incompetent  ruler,  are,  it  will  be  observed,  wholly 
opposed  to  the  absolutism  claimed  by  Henry  VIII.  or 


154  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

Elizabeth,  as  also  to  the  Stuarts'  pretension  to  divine, 
inalienable  right.  At  the  same  time  his  treatment 
of  Cade's  rising  shows  him  to  have  been  no  believer 
in  the  sovereignty  of  the  people,  a  doctrine  fully 
developed  in  the  trial  and  execution  of  Charles  I.  only 
thirty-three  years  after  the  poet's  death.  As  Cole- 
ridge says,  "  he  gives  utterance  neither  to  the  servile 
flatteries  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  nor  to  the 
Republican  sneers  of  Massinger."  ^  To  the  sovereign 
he  attributes  sanctity,  majesty,  glory,  as  the  source, 
under  God,  of  the  life  and  power  of  the  State.  But 
he  is  to  use  his  power  not  for  his  personal  gain, 
but  for  his  subjects'  good,  and  when  he  abuses 
his  trust  his  power  is  forfeited. 

The  religious  loyalty  which,  while  indignant  at 
a  sovereign's  crimes  and  follies,  still  remains  faith- 
ful to  its  pledged  word,  is  beautifully  drawn  out 
in  the  character  of  York  in  "  Richard  II."  So 
is  the  deep  personal  devotion  felt  by  the  poor 
for  their  sovereign  in  misfortune  and  for  all 
belonging  to  him,  a  truly  Catholic  instinct,  as  we 
can  learn  from  the  pages  of  history.  Coleridge 
says  that  it  is  by  the  introduction  of  such  incidents 
as  the  following  scene  of  Richard  II.  and  his  groom, 
that  Shakespeare's  plays  are  dramas,  not  histories. 

"  Groom.  I  was  a  poor  groom  of  thy  stable,  king, 
When  thou  wert  king ;  who,  travelling  towards  York, 
With  much  ado,  at  length  have  gotten  leave 
To  look  upon  my  sometime  master's  face. 

^  "  Literary  Remains,"  ii.  178. 


MISERIES    OF   ROYALTY  I  55 

0,  how  it  yearned  my  heart  when  I  beheld 
In  London  streets  that  coronation-day, 
When  Bolingbroke  rode  on  roan  Barbary  ! 
That  horse,  that  thou  so  often  hast  bestrid  ; 
That  horse,  that  I  so  carefully  have  dressed  ! 
King  Richard.  Rode  he  on  Barbary  ? " 

— Richard  II.,  v.  5. 

Again,  with  all  his  reverence  for  royalty,  no 
preacher  has  proclaimed  the  emptiness  of  earthly 
greatness  more  strongly  than  Shakespeare,  or  the 
miseries  weighing  upon  kings  by  reason  of  their 
greatness.  Henry  IV.  complains  how  the  mere 
cares  of  royalty  drive  sleep  away.  "Perfumed 
chambers,"  "  canopies  of  state,"  "  sweetest  melodies  " 
cannot  obtain  for  the  monarch  the  rest  found  by 
the  meanest  of  his  subjects  on  "uneasy  pallets," 
"  loathsome  beds,"  "  amidst  buzzing  night-flies."i 
Henry  VI.,  ever  fearful  of  some  traitorous  attack, 
envies  the  shepherd. 

"  Gives  not  the  hawthorn  bush  a  sweeter  shade 
To  shepherds,  looking  on  their  silly  sheep, 
Than  doth  a  rich  embroider 'd  canopy 
To  kings,  that  fear  their  subjects'  treachery  ? " 

— 3  Henry  VI.,  ii.  5. 

And  Richard  II.   lives  expecting  the  death  which 
mocks  his  greatness. 

"  Within  the  hollow  crown, 
That  rounds  the  mortal  temples  of  a  king, 
Death  keeps  his  court ;  and  there  the  antic  sits, 
ScoflSng  his  state  and  grinning  at  his  pomp  ; 
Allowing  him  a  breath,  a  little  scene 
To  monarchise,  be  fear'd,  and  kill  with  looks  ; 


156  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

Infusing  him  with  self  and  vain  conceit, — 
(As  if  this  flesh,  which  walls  about  our  life, 
Were  brass  impregnable)  ;  and  humoured  thus, 
Comes  at  the  last,  and  with  a  little  pin 
Bores  through  his  castle  wall,  and — farewell,  king  ! " 

— Richard  II.  ^  iii.  2. 

Naturally,  then,  the  same  Richard  longs  to  ex- 
change his  royal  pomp  for  religious  retirement  and 
peace,  but  in  what  a  Catholic  tone  he  speaks ! 

"  I'll  give  my  jewels,  for  a  set  of  beads  : 
My  gorgeous  palace,  for  a  hermitage  ; 
My  gay  apparel,  for  an  alms-man's  gown  ; 
My  figured  goblets,  for  a  dish  of  wood  ; 
My  sceptre,  for  a  palmer's  walking-staff ; 
My  subjects,  for  a  pair  of  carved  saints  ; 
And  my  large  kingdom  for  a  little  grave, 
A  little  little  grave,  an  obscure  grave." — Ibid.^  iii.  3. 

We  will  now  consider  Shakespeare's  view  of  the 
nobihty.  A  single  thread  of  history,  such  as  the 
subject  before  us,  "manifests  conspicuously,"  says 
Simpson,  "the  philosophic  unity  running  through 
the  chronicle  plays.  With  the  exception  of  'Ed- 
ward III/  and  Marlowe's  'Edward  II.,'  both  often 
attributed  in  part  to  Shakespeare,  the  numerous 
historical  plays  by  other  authors,  for  instance  Hey- 
wood's  '  Edward  IV.'  or  '  Elizabeth,'  would  add 
nothing  to  the  completeness  of  the  picture  of  the 
nobility  presented  in  the  Shakespearian  series."  The 
constitutional  origin  and  status  of  the  nobles,  their 
power  and  greatness,  and  the  causes  of  their  decay 
are  alike  clearly  set  forth. 

In  "King  John,"  the  nobles  appear  as  deriving 


EVILS   OF   REBELLION  I  $7 

their  rights,  not  from  the  great  Charter,  which  the 
poet  ignores,  but  from  common  law  and  immemorial 
custom.  The  Barons  are  the  King's  Peers ;  his 
judges  when  he  breaks  the  laws  of  Church  or  State, 
and  the  executors  of  their  judgments,  as  far  as  they 
have  the  power.  Thus  they  are  represented  in 
"  King  John "  as  resisting  the  encroachments  of 
the  crown,  and  their  rebellion,  in  alliance  with  the 
French  king,  is  dictated  by  motives  of  religion, 
duty,  and  patriotism.  But  the  poet  is  careful  to 
point  out  in  the  speech  of  Salisbury  the  evils  en- 
tailed by  even  justifiable  rebellion.  The  uncer- 
tainty of  conscience  as  to  what  is  lawful  or  not  in 
rebellion,  the  "  healing  one  wound  only  by  making 
many,"  the  necessity  of  fighting  with  one's  own 
countrymen  and  forming  alliances  with  their  ene- 
mies, these  are  some  of  the  evils  of  insurrection. 

"  But  such  is  the  infection  of  the  time, 
That,  for  the  health  and  physic  of  our  right, 
We  cannot  deal  but  with  the  very  hand 
Of  stern  injustice  and  confused  wrong." 

— Kijig  John,  v.  2. 

Hence  Salisbury  readily  profits  by  the  opportunity 
aflforded  by  the  French  king's  intended  treachery 
to  rejoin  John. 

(We  will)  "  like  a  bated  and  retired  flood, 
Leaving  our  rankness  and  irregular  course, 
Stoop  low  within  those  bounds  we  have  o'erlooked 
And  calmly  run  on  in  obedience. 
Even  to  our  ocean,  to  our  great  King  John." 

— Ibid.,  V.  4. 


158  ENGLISH  HISTORICAL  PLAYS 

The  "ocean,"  though  a  strong  expression,  is  the 
natural  term  of  the  metaphor  of  an  overflowing 
river,  and  John  was  now  reconciled  to  the  Church, 
and  had  given  the  pledges  demanded. 

Again,  the  poet  represents  the  suspicion  which 
always  attaches  to  the  rebel,  or  even  to  those  who 
were  regarded  as  disaffected,  however  just  their 
cause  of  complaint  may  have  been.  This  is  why 
the  Dauphin  in  "  King  John "  had  determined  to 
murder  all  his  English  allies. 

"  Paying  the  fine  of  rated  treachery 
Even  with  the  treacherous  fine  of  all  your  lives." 

— Ibid.,  V.  3. 

For  the  same  reason  the  deposed  Richard  warns 
Northumberland  that  Henry  IV. 

*'  Shall  think  that  thou,  which  know'st  the  way 
To  plant  unrightful  kings,  wilt  know  again, 
Being  ne'er  a  little  urg'd,  another  way 
To  pluck  him  headlong  from  the  usurped  throne. 
The  love  of  wicked  men  converts  to  fear  ; 
That  fear  to  ha.te."— Richard  II.,  v.  i. 

Worcester  speaks  in  the  same  strain : — 

"  Bear  ourselves  as  even  as  we  can, 
The  king  will  always  think  him  in  our  debt ; 
And  think  we  think  ourselves  unsatisfied, 
Till  he  hath  found  a  time  to  pay  us  home." 

— I  Heni-y  IF".,  i.  3. 
And  afterwards : — 

"  Look  how  we  can,  or  sad,  or  merrily, 
Interpretation  will  misquote  our  looks. 
And  we  shall  feed  like  oxen  at  a  stall. 
The  better  cherish'd,  still  the  nearer  death." 

—Ibid.,  v.  2. 


WARNINGS   REPEATED  159 

This  makes  Mowbray  and  the  Archbishop  of  York 
say: — 

"  Were  our  royal  faiths  martyrs  in  love, 
We  shall  be  winnow'd  with  so  rough  a  wind. 
That  even  our  corn  shall  seem  as  light  as  chaff." 

— 2  Henry  7F.,  iv.  i. 

Henry  IV.  warns  his  son  to  the  same  effect — 

'^  I  had  many  living,  to  upbraid 
My  gain  of  it  (the  crown)  by  their  assistances  ; 
Which  daily  grew  to  quarrel.  .  .  .  " — Ibid.,  iv.  5. 

Their  merits  were  too  great  to  be  rewarded  as  they 
deserved.  Unrewarded,  they  would  be  as  faithless  to 
their  new  master  as  to  their  old.  Nothing  was  left 
than  that  they  should  experience  the  truth  of 
Commines'  saying,  "  II  perd  souvent  d'avoir  trop 
servi." 

The  circumstances  of  Shakespeare's  time  explain 
why  these  warnings  should  be  so  often  repeated. 
The  English  Catholics  in  exile  found  that  foreign 
countries  offered  them  no  secure  asylum  against  the 
suspicion  which  had  dogged  them  at  home.  Accord- 
ing to  Camden,  the  Earl  of  Westmoreland  and  the 
other  English  resident  in  the  Netherlands  were  com- 
pelled, in  1575,  by  the  Governor  Kequesens,  at  the 
request  of  Wilson,  the  British  ambassador,  to  quit 
the  country.  Three  years  later,  on  March  22,  1578, 
the  seminary  of  Douay  was  dissolved,  all  English 
capable  of  bearing  arms  being  forced,  by  order  of 
the  magistrate,  to  leave  the  town  within  two  days. 
The  Rector  of  the  University  and  the  Governor  alike 


l6o  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

spoke  in  favour  of  the  College,  alleging  the  insignifi- 
cant number  of  the  residents  and  their  peaceful  be- 
haviour; but  all  to  no  purpose.  Elizabeth,  through 
her  agents,  had  inspired  the  townspeople  with  the  con- 
viction that  the  English  exiles,  lay  or  clerical,  were 
really  agents  or  spies  in  the  French  interest,  and  must 
be  expelled.  Such  then  was  the  position  of  English 
CathoUcs  in  exile.  When  at  home  they  had  been 
represented  as  traitors  corresponding  with  Spain ; 
abroad,  in  Spanish  territory,  they  were  suspected  as 
agents  of  the  "  French."  ^ 

In  England  their  position  was  indeed  desperate. 
However  loyal  they  might  declare  themselves  to  be, 
or  have  proved  themselves,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
Armada,  their  lives  were  in  constant  jeopardy,  their 
property  was  being  ever  impoverished  by  monthly 
fines,  and  their  homes  and  family  life  were  rendered 
almost  insupportable,  owiag  to  the  domiciliary  visits 
to  which  they  were  frequently  subjected.  "The 
arrival  of  a  stranger,  the  groundless  information  of 
an  enemy,  a  discharged  servant,  a  discontented 
tenant,  the  hope  of  plunder  or  of  reward,  the  for- 
feiture of  the  estate  following  the  apprehension  of 
a  priest,  were  sufficient  to  procure  the  intrusion  of 
the  pursuivants."^  Under  these  intolerable  sufferings, 
where  could  they  look  for  rehef?  Constitutional 
redress  was  hopeless,  the  law  was  their  chief  torturer. 
Their  only  hope  seemed  to  lie  in  active  resistance, 

1  "  Troubles  of  our  Catholic  Forefathers,"  third  series,  p.  io8. 
*  Lingard,  viii.  360.     1823. 


FOREIGN    INTRIGUES  l6l 

Strengthened  by  foreign  support.  The  example  of 
"  intriguing  in  foreign  pohtics,"  as  it  was  called,  was 
set  them  by  the  Government.  To  support  her  own 
throne,  Elizabeth  helped  the  French  rebels  after  the 
death  of  Henri  II. ;  she  assisted  the  Netherlanders 
against  Philip ;  she  interfered  in  Scotland  from  the 
very  beginning  of  her  reign,  imprisoned  the  Queen, 
Mary  Stuart,  and  finally  beheaded  her.  She  set  up 
James  VI.  against  his  mother,  Francis  of  Valois  in 
Brabant  against  Philip,  Antonio  in  Portugal  also 
against  Philip,  and  from  the  first  recognised  and 
supported  Henry  of  Navarre  as  heir  and  King  of 
France.i 

It  need  cause  no  surprise,  then,  that  Catholic  nobles 
should  be  disposed  to  join  in  alliance  with  foreign 
princes  to  further  their  cause  by  procuring  a  suc- 
cessor to  the  throne  favourable  to,  or  at  least  tolerant 
of  their  own  religion.  Elizabeth  herself  had  received 
the  addresses  of  Philip  II.  of  Spain,  the  Duke  of 
Anjou,  and  Don  John  of  Austria.  There  was  no 
reason  therefore  to  suppose  that  the  fact  of  a  prince 
being  a  foreigner  and  a  Catholic  would  be  an  in- 
superable objection  to  his  acceptance  by  the  country 
at  large.  In  fact  the  English-Spanish  party  hoped 
that  the  Infanta  might  marry  Essex,  the  most  popular 
Protestant  leader  of  the  time.  The  following  lists  of 
the  parties  to  which  the  nobility  belonged  in  Shake- 
speare's time  is  given  by  Simpson,  from  documents 
now  preserved  in  the  State  Paper  office,  which  had 

^  Philopater,  141-143. 

L 


1 62  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL    PLAYS 

been  supplied  to  the  Government  by  their  agent 
abroad,  and  they  show  the  extent  to  which  the 
disaffection  was  spread. 

In  these  Hsts  the  nobility  and  gentry  are  carefully 
distinguished  as  Catholic,  Indifferent,  or  Protestant, 
not  so  much  for  their  religious  opinions  as  for  the 
side  they  took  in  poHtics.  Among  the  Cathohcs  we 
find  the  Earls  of  Northumberland,  Shrewsbury, 
Derby  (with  his  son  Lord  Strange),  Arundel  (with 
his  brothers  Audley  and  Lord  WilHam  Howard), 
and  Westmoreland ;  the  Lords  Vaux,  Mountjoy, 
Paget,  Windsor,  Mordant,  Henry  Howard,  Dacres  of 
the  North,  Stourton,  Lumley,  Wharton,  Berkeley, 
SheJBfield,  Morley,  Kildare  (with  his  son  Garrett), 
and  Compton ;  the  Knights  Bapthorpe,  Malery, 
Stapleton,  Gerard,  Catesby,  Tresham,  Fitzherbert, 
Peckham,  Godwin,  Herbert,  Bretherton,  Hastings, 
Browne,  Poyntz,  Bottley,  Arundel,  Conway,  Petre, 
Baker,  Inglefield,  and  Winter. 

The  list  of  "  Indifferents  "  comprises  Lords  Rut- 
land, Oxford,  Bath,  Lincoln,  Cumberland,  Cobham, 
Chandos,  Delaware,  Charles  Howard,  Cheney,  Dacres 
of  the  South,  Northampton,  and  Bromley  the  Chan- 
cellor. 

That  of  "  Protestants  "  contains  only  the  names  of 
Leicester,  Huntingdon,  Warwick,  Bedford,  Kent, 
Hunsdon,  Burghley,  Buckhurst-Grey  of  Wilton,  and 
Russell,  with  Sir  Francis  Walsingham  and  Sir 
Francis  Knowles. 

This  list  belongs  to  some  year  between  1580  and 


INSURRECTION    AND    RELIGION  1 63 

1588.  In  1602  Watson  {Quodlilets,  p.  211)  adds 
up  the  list  of  English  houses  who  were  all  more  or 
less  pledged  supporters  of  the  Infanta  of  Spain  or  of 
Arabella  Stuart,  lineal  descendant  of  Henry  VII.,  and 
looked  to  the  settlement  of  the  succession  by  foreign 
arbitration.  It  includes  those  of  Winchester,  Oxford, 
Arundel,  Westmoreland,  Northumberland,  Lincoln, 
Cumberland,  Shrewsbury,  Pembroke,  Derby,  Hert- 
ford, Huntingdon,  Leicester,  Worcester,  Bath,  Kent, 
Sussex,  Nottingham,  and  Montague.  Watson's  state- 
ment must,  however,  be  taken  with  reserve.  He 
was  a  violent  anti-Spanish  partisan,  and  was  anxious 
to  portray  in  the  strongest  colours  the  influence  of 
the  Jesuits  on  behalf  of  the  Spanish  party.  Watson 
was  put  to  death  for  an  alleged  co-operation  in 
Raleigh's  plot  agamst  James  I.  (1603),  ^^^  i^  ^^^^ 
to  have  retracted  his  accusation  against  the  Jesuits 
and  others  before  he  died.^ 

If  the  country  were  thus  divided  and  disaffected, 
and  an  adherent  to  the  Catholic  party  might  be 
involved  at  any  moment  in  an  active  outbreak, 
Shakespeare,  representing  as  he  did  the  very  "  form 
and  pressure  of  the  age,"  must  have  had  a  decided 
opinion  upon  the  expediency  or  impolicy  of  a  rising. 
Now  we  have  seen  how  strongly  he  urges  the  dis- 
astrous consequences  of  such  an  attempt,  yet  he 
makes  one  exception  in  its  favour,  that  is  when  the 
movement  is  authorised  by  religion.  Then,  and 
then  alone,  insurgents  act  with  a  good  conscience, 

^  Dodd's  "Church  History,"  ii.  379,  ed.  1739. 


1 64  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

for  they  are  obeying  authority  and  the  movement 
succeeds.  Thus  the  poet  makes  Morton  declare 
("  2  Henry  IV.,"  i.  i ),  that  the  first  rebellion  of  the 
Percies  had  failed,  because  not  blessed  by  religion ; 
but  that  the  second,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Arch- 
bishop, would  fare  otherwise. 

"  For  that  same  word,  rebellion,  did  divide 
The  action  of  their  bodies  from  their  souls  ; 
And  they  did  fight  with  queasiness,  constrain'd, 
As  men  drink  potions.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  But  now  the  Bishop 
Turns  insurrection  to  religion  .  .  . 
He's  followed  both  with  body  and  with  mind  .  .  . 
Derives  from  heaven  his  quarrel  and  his  cause." 

In  Act  iv.  I  the  Archbishop  speaks  of  the  rising  as 
a  judgment  of  Heaven  on  England's  sins,  a  purga- 
tion for  both  parties ;  his  end  he  declares  is  peace ; 
if  he  makes  show  of  war  it  is — 

"  To  diet  rank  minds,  sick  of  happiness  ; 
And  purge  the  obstructions,  which  begin  to  stop 
Our  very  veins  of  life.  .  .  ." 

And  he  fights — 

"  Not  to  brea 
But  to  estal 

Westmoreland  replies — 

"  It  is  the  time 
And  not  the  king  that  does  you  injuries." 

Shakespeare's  teaching  on  this  point  recalls  what 
Sanders  said  of  the  failure  of  the  rebellion  of  1569. 
The  movement  turned  out  otherwise  than  as  they 
expected  "  because  all  the  Catholics  had  not  yet  been 


Not  to  break  peace,  or  any  branch  of  it ; 
But  to  establish  here  a  peace  indeed." 


HENRY   V.  165 

authentically  informed  that  Elizabeth  was  declared 
a  heretic  " ;  which  want  of  information,  adds  Burgh- 
ley,  was  diligently  supplied  by  sending  a  multitude 
of  Seminarists  and  Jesuits  into  the  kingdom/  It 
is  noteworthy  that  Shakespeare  condemns  rebellion 
rather  from  its  political  inexpediency  than  from  its 
intrinsic  immorality  under  the  special  conditions  of 
the  age  in  which  he  writes. 

_JIenry  V.  is  a  very  different  monarch  from  his 
predecessors.  With  the  call  of  duty  his  wild  days 
ended,  and  he  appears,  as  king,  the  impersonation 
of  England's  greatness.  He  is  Shakespeare's  ideal 
Prince,  perhaps  his  ideal  self,  what  in  his  better 
moments  he  would  wish  himself  to  have  been ;  and 
no  national  hero  has  such  a  portrait,  says  Kreysig, 
except  perhaps  Pelides.  Under  Henry  the  country 
is  transformed.  Profligates  and  adventurers  like 
FalstafF,  Bardolph,  Pym,  Pistol,  "  the  cankers  of  a 
calm  world  and  a  long  peace,"  meet  with  their  fitting 
deserts.  The  conspiracy  of  Cambridge,  Scroop,  and 
Grey  is  destroyed  in  the  bud,  and  the  whole  nation, 
Church  and  State,  King  and  nobles,  with  the  four 
nationalities  of  Britain — the  English,  Welsh,  Scotch, 
Irish — are  united  in  one  great  patriotic  movement, 
pointing  the  moral — 

"  0  England  ! — model  to  thy  inward  greatness, 
Like  little  body  with  a  mighty  heart, 
What  might'st  thou  do,  that  honour  would  thee  do, 
Were  all  thy  children  kind  and  natural ! " 

— Henry  F".,  ii.  Chorus. 

^  "  Execution  for  Treason,"  18.     Reprint  of  1675. 


1 66  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

"  The  mighty  heart "  was  the  king's.  His  firm  sense 
of  justice  redressed  wrongs  and  suppressed  disorders 
within.  His  personal  grace  and  bearing  ;  the  "  cheer- 
ful countenance,"  "sweet*  majesty,"  and  personal 
interest  in  every  individual  soldier,  the  sound  of 
his  voice,  the  ring  of  his  words  secured  victory 
abroad.  Thus  on  the  eve  of  Agincourt  the  confident, 
well-fed,  and  feasting  French  are  boasting  of  their 
horses  and  their  armour,  and  the  morrow's  victory 
as  secure ;  while  the  chorus  tells  us — 

"  .  .  .*  fhe  poor  condemned  English, 
Like  sacrifices,  by  their  watchful  fires 
Sit  patiently,  and  inly  ruminate 
The  morning's  ganger  ;  and*their  gesture  sad, 
Investing  lank-lean  cheeks,  and  war-worn  coats, 
Presenteth  them  unto  the  gazing  moon, 
So  many  horrid  ghosts.     0,  now,  who  will  behold 
The  royal  captain  of  this  ruin'd  band, 
Walking  from  watch  to  watch,  from  tent  to  tent, 
Let  him  cry  '  Praise  and  glory  on  his  head  ! ' 
For  forth  he  goes,  .  .  . 

With  cheerful  semblance,  and  sweet  majesty  ; 
That  every  wretch,  pining  and  pale  before. 
Beholding  him,  plucks  comfort  from  his  looks." 

— Ibid.^  iv.  Chorus. 

It  was  in  making  his  rounds,  disguised,  that  a 
soldier  whom  he  meets  questions  him  on  the  blood- 
guiltiness  of  war,  and  the  responsibility  of  the  king 
in  bringing  men  to  be  killed  unprepared.  Henry 
replies  that  the  soldier,  in  going  to  war,  should 
"  wash  every  mote  from  his  conscience."  If  he  then 
dies,  his  death  is  to  him  a  gain;  if  he  escapes,  he 


henry's  piety  167 

is  blessed  in  having  prepared  his  soul,  and  may 
believe  that  his  life  has  been  spared,  that  he  may 
see  God's  goodness,  and  teach  others  how  to  prepare. 
In  conformity  with  this  deep,  earnest  faith  and 
piety,  is  Henry's  prayer  before  the  action  commences. 
His  army  is  spent  and  worn,  and  five  times  out- 
numbered. 

"  0  God  of  battles  !  steel  my  soldiers'  hearts  ! 
Possess  them  not  with  fear  ;  take  from  them  now 
The  sense  of  reckoning,  if  the  opposM  numbers 
Pluck  their  hearts  from  them  !  .  .  .  ." — Ibid.j  iv.  i. 

One  thought,  however,  disturbs  his  confidence.  His 
father's  non-performance  of  his  vow  of  a  pilgrimage 
to  Jerusalem  in  expiation  of  his  supposed  compli- 
city in  the  murder  of  Richard  II.  may  bring  the 
divine  vengeance  on  his  son  and  procure  his  defeat. 
In  this  fear  he  prays  : — 

"...  Not  to-day,  0  Lord, 

0  not  to-day,  think  not  upon  the  fault 
My  father  made  in  compassing  the  crown  ! 

1  Richard's  body  have  interred  new, 

And  on  it  have  bestow'd  more  contrite  tears, 
Than  from  it  issued  forced  drops  of  blood. 
Five  hundred  poor  I  have  in  yearly  pay, 
Who  twice  a  day  their  withered  hands  hold  up 
Toward  heaven,  to  pardon  blood  ;  and  I  have  built 
Two  chantries,  where  the  sad  and  solemn  priests 
Sing  still  for  Richard's  soul.  .  .  ." 

These  two  foundations  were  situated  on  the  opposite 
banks  of  the  Thames.  That  on  the  Surrey  shore 
at  Sheene  was  given  to  the  Carthusians.     The  other. 


1 68  ENGLISH    HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

Sion  House,  facing  it  on  the  Middlesex  shore,  was 
bestowed  on  the  Bridgettine  nuns. 

The  first  cry  that  burst  from  Henry's  heart  on 
seeing  the  victory  assured,  is  one  of  devout  thanks- 
giving :— 

"...  0  God,  Thy  arm  was  here, 
And  not  to  us,  but  to  Thy  arm  alone, 
Ascribe  we  all !     When,  without  stratagem, 
But  in  plain  shock,  and  even  play  of  battle, 
Was  ever  known  so  great  and  little  loss. 
On  one  part  and  on  the  other  ]    Take  it,  God, 
For  it  is  only  Thine  !  .  .  ." 

Only  with  the  acknowledgment  that  God  fought 
for  us,  does  he  allow  the  list  of  the  killed  to  be  pro- 
claimed, and  then  gives  the  order  of  the  day, 

"  .  .  .  Do  we  all  holy  rites. 
Let  there  be  sung  *  Non  nobis '  and  '  Te  Deum.' " 

In  the  same  spirit  of  humility  Henry  refused  the 
request  of  the  Lords  that  he  should 

"  Have  borne  (before  him) 
His  bruised  helmet  and  his  bended  sword." 

on  his  triumphant  entry  through  the  streets  of 
London.  As  he  began  his  campaign,  so  he  cele- 
brated its  victorious  issue, 

"  Free  from  vainness  and  self -glorious  pride, 
Giving  full  glory,  signal  and  ostent 
Quite  from  himself  to  God.  .  .  ." 

Such,  then,  is  Shakespeare's  chosen  national  hero, 


AN   IDEAL   PRINCE  1 69 

the  paragon  of  kings,  "  the  mirror  of  Christian 
knights."  In  what  Hnes  has  he  drawn  him  ?  He 
is  no  mere  human  champion,  victor  by  his  own 
strength,  but  solely  through  trust  in  God.  "  God 
before"  was  his  cry,  and  trust  in  God  means  with 
him  trust  in  his  Church.  The  character  of  his 
faith  is  clearly  expressed.  He  believes  in  Purgatory, 
in  alms-deeds,  prayer,  fasting,  pious  foundations,  as 
satisfactory  works  for  the  relief  of  the  souls  detained 
there.  All  his  public  acts  bear  a  religious  impress, 
and  his  portrait  as  a  Catholic  hero  is  complete. 

It  has  been  objected  that  the  religious  details 
found  in  "  Henry  V."  are  no  argument  as  to  Shake- 
speare's own  opinions,  because  these  details  are 
only  copied  from  Hollinshed.  But  the  poet  not 
only  follows  the  chronicler  in  attributing  acts  of 
Catholic  faith  and  worship  to  the  king,  he  further 
gives  his  hero  a  character  of  such  practical  wis- 
dom, graceful  piety,  and  enlightened  religion,  that 
his  Popish  proceedings  appear  like  the  flowers  of 
true  devotion,  not  the  weeds  of  superstition,  as  they 
might  have  been  represented  under  the  hands  of 
another  dramatist. 

In  "  Henry  V."  the  factions  of  the  nobles  dis- 
appear, as  we  have  seen,  in  the  complete  triumph  of 
the  Crown,  the  new  bond  of  union  of  all  parties  and 
nationalities.  Very  different,  however,  is  the  follow- 
ing reign  of  Henry  VI.,  of  "  whose  state  so  many 
had  the  managing  that  they  lost  France  and  made 
his  England  bleed."     These  lines  in  the  final  chorus 


I/O  ENGLISH   HISTOEICAL   PLAYS 

of  "  Henry  V."  give  the  keynote  of  the  trilogy  which 
is  to  follow  : — 

"...  No  simple  man  that  sees 
This  jarring  discord  of  nobility, 
This  shoiild'ring  of  each  other  in  the  court, 
This  fractious  bandying  of  their  favourites. 
But  that  it  doth  presage  some  ill  event." 

— I  Henry  FT.,  iv.  i. 

"...  While  the  vulture  of  sedition 
Feeds  in  the  bosom  of  such  great  commanders. 
Sleeping  neglection  doth  betray  to  loss 
The  conquest  of  our  scarce-cold  conqueror." 

— Ibid.  J  iv.  3. 

The  subject  of  the  three  parts  of  "Henry  VI." 
is  the  factions  of  the  nobles.  In  the  first  two 
parts  the  great  rivals  are  Duke  Humphrey  and  the 
Bishop  of  Winchester,  representing  the  two  estates 
— the  Church  and  the  laity;  while  the  Dukes  of 
Somerset  and  York  represent  the  dynastic  factions 
among  the  nobles.  The  servants  of  Duke  Hum- 
phrey despise  the  Bishop  as  an  ink-horn  mate,  just 
as  Jack  Cade  and  his  crew  despise  all  clerks,  nobles, 
and  gentlemen.  Duke  Humphrey  himself  detests 
the  Bishop  with  all  the  bitterness  which  an  ambi- 
tious political  leader  entertains  for  the  one  rival 
who  successfully  opposes  his  designs.  How  the 
Beauforts,  in  fact,  supported  the  throne  and  the 
Lancastrian  dynasty,  while  Gloucester's  selfishness 
destroyed  both,  is  not  shown  in  Shakespeare  or  in 
the  play  he  adapted. 

If  the  hierarchy  appears  discredited  in  Beaufort, 


THE    TRILOGY  I /I 

and  the  clergy  in  the  two  conjuring  priests,  Hume 
and  Southwell,  the  Catholic  religion  is  respected 
in  Henry,  that  saintly  innocent,  of  whom  his  own 
wife  says — 

"...  All  his  mind  is  bent  to  holiness, 
To  number  Ave  Maries  on  his  beads  : 
His  champions  are — the  prophets  and  apostles  ; 
His  weapons,  holy  saws  of  sacred  writ ; 
His  study  is  his  tilt-yard,  and  his  loves 
Are  brazen  images  of  canonised  saints. 
I  would  the  college  of  cardinals 
"Would  choose  him  Pope,  and  carry  him  to  Rome, 
And  set  the  triple  crown  upon  his  head  ; 
That  were  a  fit  state  for  his  holiness." 

— 2  Henry  VI. ^  i.  3. 

Henry,  in  fact,  is  the  key  of  the  whole  trilogy, 
the  design  of  which  is  to  show  that  innocence,  up- 
rightness, and  self-sacrifice  are  not  by  themselves 
sufficient  to  constitute  a  powerful  ruler.  As  Richard 
II.  exhibited  the  divergence  between  the  higher  gifts 
of  mind  and  political  sagacity,  so  Henry  VI.  exhibits 
the  still  greater  divergence  between  statesmanship 
and  personal  piety.  Henry  has  the  harmlessness 
of  the  dove  and  the  wisdom  of  the  recluse,  but  not 
the  cunning  of  the  king.  He  would  make  an  excel- 
lent Infirmarian  brother,  to  pray  by  the  bedside  of 
the  dying,  and 

"...  Beat  away  the  busy,  meddling  fiend 
That  lays  strong  siege  unto  the  wretch's  soul," 

but  his  scrupulosity  is  too  acute,  his  simple  soul  is 
too  much  at  the  mercy  of  the  last  plausible  speaker 


172  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

to  allow  of  consistent  firmness  of  action.  Scrupulous 
about  his  title  to  the  throne,  yet  fearing  the  suicide 
of  abdication,  he  compromises  the  difficulty  by  keep- 
ing the  crown  during  his  own  life,  and  only  dis- 
inheriting his  son.  Having  done  so,  he  is  distracted 
with  the  injury  he  has  done  his  own  family,  and  the 
power  he  has  given  to  his  enemy,  now  his  acknow- 
ledged heir.  Such  is  the  king  who  has  to  grapple 
with  a  nobility  that  cannot  understand  what  con- 
science is. 

In  "  King  John  "  the  nobles  revolt  for  the  sake 
of  religion  and  natural  justice.  The  murder  of 
Arthur  and  the  excommunication  are  the  motives  of 
their  conspiracy.  In  "  Richard  II."  they  revolt  to 
preserve  their  order,  and  to  save  the  country  from 
ruin ;  patriotism  is  their  end.  In  "  Henry  IV." 
their  mainspring  of  action  has  become  their  per- 
sonal safety.  They  have  found  that  to  dethrone 
one  king  is  to  set  up  another,  and  however  con- 
ducive to  the  progress  of  the  country,  is  a  step 
downwards  for  themselves.  For  a  subject  unfaith- 
ful to  one  master  is  suspected  by  another,  and 
the  benefactor  of  a  monarch  never  thinks  himself 
sufficiently  rewarded.  In  "  Henry  V."  this  down- 
ward progress  makes  halt  for  a  few  years  in  a 
national  triumph,  the  result  of  the  king's  personal 
superiority,  but  in  "  Henry  VI."  we  find  that  the 
bad  leaven  has  been  working  even  while  it  seemed 
to  sleep.  The  nobles  are  already  combined  in 
factions.     Neither  patriotism  nor  religion  nor  honour 


HOUSE   OF   YORK  1^3 

are  now  their  motives,  but  only  an  equal  share  in 
power.  Pre-eminence  or  distinction  of  any  kind 
insures  the  possessor  the  enmity  of  his  fellows. 

In  "  Henry  VI."  the  factions  of  the  nobles  are 
swaying  backwards  and  forwards,  one  ever  strength- 
ening itself  by  the  destruction  of  another,  according 
to  the  old  saying,  "  Snake  must  devour  snake  if  it 
would  become  a  dragon,"  or,  according  to  the  Maori 
doctrine,  that  the  warrior  that  eats  another  inherits 
all  his  prowess,  a  doctrine  which  Prince  .Hal  seems 
to  hold — 

"  Percy  is  but  my  factor,  good  my  lord, 
To  engross  up  glorious  deeds  on  my  behalf ; 
That  he  shall  render  every  glory  up, 
Or  I  will  tear  the  reckoning  from  his  heart." 

— I  Henry  IV.,  iii.  2. 

And  all  this  time  one  family  is  gradually  rising. 
York  bases  his  fortunes  upon  the  mutinous  people, 
and  receives  fresh  strength  by  every  blow  that 
weakens  any  other  faction.  His  three  sons  grow 
up  in  this  dice-play  of  fortune,  which  eradicates 
from  their  minds  every  guiding  principle  but  the 
balance  of  power.  Life  has  become  to  them  a  rule- 
of-three  sum,  a  calculation,  and  nothing  else.  For 
two  of  them,  however,  nature  is  too  strong.  Edward 
IV.  and  Clarence  are  under  the  sway  of  their  passions 
and  affections.  The  youngest,  Richard  of  Glou- 
cester, alone  knows  how  to  stifle  every  feeling,  to 
ridicule  every  principle,  and  to  guide  himself  simply 
by  the  arithmetical  calculation  of  his  own  interest. 


174  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

What  germs  of  feeling  and  conscience  remain  in  him 
are  employed  only  to  gain  the  mastery  over  others. 

Richard  III.  is  the  opposite  pole  to  Henry  VI. 
Unscrupulous,  unhesitating,  applying  his  great 
capacity  not  to  unravelling  casuistical  questions  of 
right  and  wrong,  but  to  discovering  the  readiest 
means  to  his  determined  ends,  he  is  the  natural, 
the  fatal  result  of  the  degradation  of  the  nobles, 
which  is  traced  all  through  these  plays.  Under 
him  the  nobles  change  their  nature.  They  are  no 
longer  a  collection  of  petty  princes  fighting  amongst 
themselves  for  supremacy.  They  have  at  length 
found  their  master,  and  his  t3rranny  does  not  drive 
them  to  insurrection  but  to  look  out  for  a  deliverer. 
Richard  III.  bases  his  power  on  the  Commons, 
and  snaps  his  fingers  at  the  nobles;  his  defeat 
and  death  are  the  consequence  of  his  personal 
crimes,  not  of  his  political  tendency,  for  his  suc- 
cessor continues  in  the  same  line.  He  is  the  victim  of 
his  own  victims,  whose  curses  consume  his  marrow. 
Henry  VI.  falls  through  weakness.  Richard  III. 
circumvents  himself  in  his  own  policy. 

The  dramatist  omits  one  reign,  and  in  his  last 
chronicle  play  exhibits  to  us  the  state  of  England 
such  as  it  was  in  his  own  day.  In  "  Henry  VIII." 
we  have  a  king  inheriting  the  position  which  Richard 
had  created  and  Henry  VII.  had  developed;  an 
autocrat  among  his  peers,  but  feehng  in  some  blind 
way  his  dependence  on  the  Commons.  The  king 
no  longer  strengthens  himself  with  the  alHance  of 


HENRY    VIII.  175 

dukes  and  earls,  as  powerful  in  their  counties  as  he 
is  in  his  kingdom,  but  he  surrounds  himself  with 
able  ministers  whom  he  raises  from  low  estate,  and 
uses  as  his  instruments  for  the  still  further  weaken- 
ing and  degrading  of  the  nobles.  Nash  in  1589 
reproaches  Shakespeare  with  stealing  conceits  like 
"  Blood  is  a  beggar "  out  of  Seneca.  Nash  was 
wrong  in  supposing  that  the  dramatist  required 
Seneca  to  tell  him  this  secret.  It  was  the  first 
fact  patent  to  the  eye  that  looked  into  the  Tudor 
rule ;  and  the  first  three  scenes  of  "  Henry  VIII." 
are  taken  up  in  illustrating  it. 

Buckingham,  the  son  of  the  duke  that  had  been 
Richard's  tool  for  hoisting  him  into  the  throne, 
courted  while  needed,  broken  when  done  with,  is 
now  no  longer  necessary  for  anything  but  the 
amusement  of  the  sovereign.  Henry  is  pleased 
with  his  talk,  admires  his  talents,  but  when  he 
becomes  a  nuisance  to  his  minister  he  sends  him, 
in  spite  of  the  Queen's  intercession,  to  the  block. 
King-makers  have  dwindled  down  to  courtiers. 
Their  lives,  which  under  the  former  dynasties  could 
only  be  taken  by  violence  or  lawless  treachery,  are 
now  game  for  the  labyrinthian  subtlety  of  intriguing 
lawyers.  The  great  families  are  ruined  by  being 
brought  to  court,  not  to  honour  them,  but  to  weigh 
them  down  with  expenditure.  Young  nobles  are 
encouraged  to  "break  their  backs  with  laying 
manors  on  'em."  Cardinal  Wolsey,  the  "  butcher's 
cur,"  the  beggar  whose  "  book  outworths  a  noble's 


176  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

blood,"  omnipotent  under  the  king,  makes  and  mars, 
sets  up  and  pulls  down  nobles  as  he  lists,  and  pulls 
down,  though  he  fails  to  set  up,  a  queen.  After 
Wolsey  has  fallen,  another  like  him  takes  his  place 
— Cranmer,  like  Wolsey  raised  from  low  estate  to 
the  highest  ecclesiastical  dignities ;  and  Cranmer  is 
simply  a  ministerial  tool  for  carrying  out  the  king's 
designs  about  the  divorce. 

Now  it  is  noticeable  that  in  assigning  this  cha- 
racteristic to  the  Tudor  times,  and  in  the  lament 
implied  in  the  terms  "  Blood  is  a  beggar  "  which  he 
expresses,  Shakespeare  is  taking  the  Catholic  view 
of  the  Elizabethan  era.  It  was  one  of  the  charges 
made  against  the  Queen  in  the  Bull  of  Pius  V.  that 
"she  had  dismissed  the  royal  council  of  English 
nobles,  and  filled  their  places  with  obscure  men 
and  heretics."  Father  Parsons,  according  to  whom 
the  only  purpose  of  the  rebellion  of  1569  was 
to  restore  their  due  influence  to  the  old  nobles, 
traces  the  plebeian  origin  of  the  Queen's  five 
councillors.  Bacon,  Cecil,  Dudley,  Hatton,  and  Wal- 
singham,  and  declares  that  in  the  whole  bench  of 
Anglican  bishops  there  was  scarce  a  drop  of  noble 
blood,  while  the  ministry  was  filled  up  with  beggars' 
brats.^  It  is  to  be  remarked  that  this  feeling  in 
Shakespeare  marks  his  party  clearly.  Raleigh's 
friends  complained  indeed  that  except  a  man  were 
of  noble  blood  he  had  no  chance  of  promotion  in 

*  Philopater,  Eesjp.  ad.  ii.  Edict.  Elizabethan,  2  ct  seq.     Lugduni, 
1593- 


THE   NEW   NOBILITY  177 

Elizabeth's  court.  But  it  was  not  mere  court 
favour  that  Shakespeare  desired  for  the  nobility; 
he  wanted  power,  such  power  as  would  make  them 
balance  the  crown  and  obstruct  its  despotism.  It 
was  easy  for  Elizabeth  to  combine  a  narrow  and 
senseless  love  of  caste  with  a  determination  to 
destroy  aristocratic  privileges  and  to  break  the 
nobles  as  an  independent  power  in  the  State. 

Though  Shakespeare  evidently  felt  the  regrets 
which  Allen  as  well  as  Parsons  express,  he  was  not 
theorist  enough  to  think  that  the  old  state  of  things 
could  be  restored  by  edict.  He  had  traced  the 
progress  of  decay  through  centuries,  and  knew  that 
neither  Pope's  Bull,  nor  Act  of  Parliament,  nor  Royal 
Proclamation,  could  recall  the  dead  to  life.  Never- 
theless, he  looked  back  to  the  past  wistfully,  and  felt 
that  he  and  his  dearest  friends  Avere  misplaced  in 
the  times  when  they  were  living : — 

"  Why  should  he  live,  now  Nature  bankrupt  is, 
Beggared  of  blood  ? 

Tired  with  all  these,  for  restful  death  I  cry, 
With  needy  nothing  trimmed  in  jollity, 
And  gilded  honour  shamefully  misplaced. 
And  strength  by  limping  sway  disabled." 

Shakespeare's  conception  of  Henry  VIII.  shows 
how  he  judged  him.  Henry  would  fain  have  been 
absolute  monarch,  to  whom  the  least  presumption  of 
independence  was  present  death,  as  the  prejudged 
and  murdered  Buckingham  felt  to  his  sorrow;  but 
knowing  that  he  could  not  discontent  the  Commons 

M 


178  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

with  impunity,  Henry  rebuked  his  favourite  minister 
for  oppressing  them.  Queen  Catherine  patronised 
the  Commons  out  of  charity,  the  king  out  of  pohcy. 
Wolsey,  whose  consummate  art  is  only  administra- 
tive, who  has  none  other  but  personal  ends,  revenge 
and  ambition,  will  oppress  them  when  he  may,  and 
pretend  to  be  their  friend  when  oppression  is  for- 
bidden. Thus  the  king,  sitting  in  the  seat  of 
Richard  III.,  but  raised  to  it  by  peaceable  suc- 
cession, not  by  war  and  murder,  has  to  maintain 
himself  there  by  other  weapons. 

Remorseless  as  Richard  and  libertine  as  Edward 
IV.,  he  is  yet  a  peaceful  monarch,  and  must,  appar- 
ently at  least,  confine  himself  within  the  limits  of 
law  and  conscience.  The  weapons  of  the  barefaced 
usurper  are  denied  him,  but  those  of  the  hypocrite 
are  in  constant  use.  Richard  III.  is  an  actor,  a 
consummate  hypocrite.  Henry  is  a  more  melo- 
dramatic, pretentious,  arrogant,  oily  hypocrite,  and 
his    perpetual    cry    almost    serves    to    characterise 

him — 

"...  Conscience,  conscience, 
0  !  'tis  a  tender  place,  and  I  must  leave  her." 

Shakespeare  is  not  content  with  once  saying  this, 
the  audience  must  not  be  allowed  to  forget  it.  The 
marriage  with  the  brother's  widow  had  crept  too 
near  Henry's  conscience — "  No  !  his  conscience  has 
crept  too  near  another  lady,"  whose  beauty  was  such 
and  so  tempting  that,  as  one  of  the  courtiers  says, 
"  I  cannot  blame  his  conscience." 


THE   PEOPLE  179 

It  is  for  this  hypocrisy  that  Cranmer  is  made 
necessary  for  Henry, — "with  thy  approach  I  know 
my  comfort  comes  " ;  and  till  this  comfort  is  admini- 
stered no  accusation  shall  stand  between  Cranmer 
and  the  king's  favour.  It  is  here  that  Shakespeare, 
supposing  this  scene  to  be  his,  for  once  condescends 
to  borrow  from  "  Foxe's  Acts  and  Monuments  "  the 
first  scene  of  the  fifth  act,  where  the  king  is  con- 
vinced of  Cranmer's  honesty  by  his  tears,  and  deli- 
vers him  the  ring  which  is  to  protect  him  against 
Gardiner  and  the  rest  of  the  Council.  In  the  whole 
play  the  poet  takes  care  to  secure  our  interest  suc- 
cessively for  Henry's  victims;  for  the  noble  but 
wilful  Buckingham ;  for  the  repudiated  Queen,  one 
of  the  grandest,  most  touching,  most  constant,  and 
purest  figures  that  Shakespeare  has  drawn,  and  after 
his  fall,  for  Wolsey  himself. 

In  "Henry  VI."  the  people  first  appear  as  a  political 
force,  in  the  rebellion  of  Jack  Cade  (1450).  Shake- 
speare's treatment  of  that  rising  has  been  condemned 
by  Mr.  Wilkes,  the  American  critic,  as  a  deliberate 
perversion  of  every  fact  in  the  interest  of  falsehood, 
selfishness,  and  t3rranny.^  His  account  is  indeed 
not  historical,  yet  it  accurately  represents  many 
features  in  the  Lollard  revolt  under  Wat  Tyler  in 
1380,  and  is  instructive  as  showing  the  bent  of  the 
poet's  sympathies  in  religion  no  less  than  in  politics. 
Those  sympathies  were  certainly  not  with  any  Lollard 
movement.    But  Shakespeare  is  not  to  be  considered 

*  "  Shakespeare  from  an  Ameriuun  Point  of  View,"  239.    1877. 


l80  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

in  consequence  a  blind  worshipper  of  kings  or  nobles. 
On  the  contrary,  he  fully  recognised  the  bitter  suf- 
ferings inflicted  at  times  on  the  lower  classes  by  the 
injustice  and  tyranny  of  their  rulers.  Hence  the 
indictment  of  Richard  II.  for  the  exorbitant  taxation 
of  the  Commons,  and  Catherine's  speech  on  their 
behalf  in  "  Henry  VIII.,"  where  she  declares  that  the 
exactions,  extending  even  to  the  sixth  part  of  their 
substance,  were  sapping  the  foundation  of  loyalty 
and  order  in  the  kingdom. 

"  Cold  hearts  freeze 
Allegiance  in  them  ;  their  curses  now 
Live  where  did  their  prayers." 

—Henry  VIII.,  i.  2. 

So  too  in  this  very  scene  (in  "  Henry  VI.")  the 
poet  gives  in  Lord  Say  the  portrait  of  a  true  noble- 
man, just,  generous,  merciful,  tender-hearted,  wan 
and  worn  in  his  judicial  labours  on  behalf  of  the 
poor  and  the  afflicted,  simple  in  his  attire  and  tastes, 
incapable  of  taking  a  bribe,  a  patron  of  learning, 
the  friend  of  poor  scholars.  In  this  character  he 
pleads  for  his  life — 

"  Justice  with  favour  have  I  always  done  ; 
Prayers  and  tears  have  mov'd  me,  gifts  could  never. 
When  have  I  aught  exacted  at  your  hands, 
Kent  to  maintain,  the  king,  the  realm,  and  you? 
Large  gifts  have  I  bestowed  on  learned  clerks. 

Long  sitting  to  determine  poor  men's  causes 
Hath  made  me  full  of  sickness  and  diseases. 


TYPES    OF   NOBLENESS  l8l 

Have  I  affected  wealth  or  honour  ;  speak  ? 
Are  my  chests  fill'd  up  with  extorted  gold  ? 
Is  my  apparel  sumptuous  to  behold  ? 
Whom  have  I  injur'd  that  ye  seek  my  death  ? " 

— 2  Henry  VI.,  iv.  7. 

Shakespeare  thus  plainly  regards  the  nobles  as 
the  appointed  guardians  and  defenders  of  the  poor, 
and  he  knows  of  no  absolute  title  to  rank  or  wealth 
which  is  free  from  these  obligations.  For  the  poor 
again,  the  lower  classes,  as  such,  he  has  none  of  the 
old  heathen  contempt,  the  odo  profanwn  vulgus  et 
arceo,  the  scorn  which,  as  Mr.  Devas  has  so  well 
pointed  out,^  Milton  expresses  in  the  "  Samson 
Agonistes." 

"  Nor  do  I  name  the  men  of  common  birth, 
That  wandering  loose  about, 
Grow  up  and  perish,  like  the  summer  flies, 
Heads  without  name,  no  more  remembered." 

For  Shakespeare  saw  all  men,  and  reverenced  all, 
whatever  their  exterior,  as  possessed  of  rational 
souls,  and  made  in  the  image  of  God.  Thus  some 
of  his  highest  examples  of  loyalty,  fidelity,  courage, 
generosity,  and  affection  are  found  in  the  lowest 
grade  of  the  social  scale.  Such  are  Corin  the  shep- 
herd in  "  Winter's  Tale,"  and  Adam,  Orlando's  ser- 
vant, in  "  As  You  Like  It,"  and  the  servants  of  the 
Duke  of  Gloucester,  and  the  fool  in  "  Lear,"  and  the 
groom  of  Richard  II.,  already  noticed.  In  these 
cases  sympathy  with  their    superiors   in    affliction 

1  "Shakespeare  as  an  Economist"  {Dublin  Review,  vol.  xiii.). 


1 82  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

evokes,  from  the  most  uneducated,  sentiments  as 
graceful,  appropriate,  and  attractive  as  any  expressed 
by  the  most  highly  cultivated  mind.  So,  too, 
Juliet's  nurse,  old  Gobbo,  and  the  gravedigger,  each 
can  speak  to  us  of  the  dead  in  a  way  to  move  our 
hearts,  because  they  speak  the  common  tongue 
of  faith. 

But  while  Shakespeare  held  the  equality  of  all 
men,  both  as  regards  their  first  beginning  and  their 
supernatural  destiny,  he  scouted  the  idea  of  an 
absolute  equality  in  natural  gifts,  attainments,  or 
position.  He  would  have  found  a  fundamental 
political  truth  in  the  words  of  Burke,  "  Those  who 
attempt  to  level  never  equalise.  In  all  societies 
consisting  of  various  descriptions  of  citizens,  some 
description  must  be  uppermost.  The  levellers  only 
pervert  the  natural  order  of  things,  and  the  per- 
fect equality  they  produce  is  of  equal  want,  equal 
wretchedness,  and  equal  beggary."  ^  *'  They  pull 
down  what  is  above,  they  never  raise  what  is  below, 
and  they  depress  high  and  low  together  below 
the  level  of  what  was  originally  the  lowest."  *  So 
again,  on  the  same  principle,  that  society  is  built 
on  a  graduated  scale,  and  that  power  is  naturally 
vested  in  men  of  rank,  wealth,  and  education,  the 
poet  did  not  believe  in  the  infallibility  of  the 
multitude,  or  in  the  principle  that  'Hhe  majority 
of  men,  told  by  the  head,  constitute   the  people, 

*  *•  Revolution  in  France." 
2  «  Thoughts  on  Scarcity." 


THE    LOLLARD   REVOLT  1 83 

and  that  their  will  is  law."  He  thought,  as  he  tells 
us  by  Archbishop  Scroop, 

"  A  habitation  giddy  and  unsure 
Hath  he  that  buildeth  on  the  vulgar  herd." 

— 2  Henry  IV.,  i.  3. 

Disbelief  in  what  is  now  called  Socialism  is  mani- 
fested in  the  fickleness  of  the  mob  in  "Julius 
Caesar " ;  it  is  seen  again  in  Coriolanus*  disdain  for 
"  the  mutable,  rank-scented  many,"  and  in  the 
repugnance  he  feels  to  appear  as  a  candidate  for 
their  votes.  So  too  it  is  the  conviction  of  the  false- 
ness of  the  cry  of  "  The  People,"  as  popularly  used, 
and  of  the  baseness  of  the  demagogues  who  flatter 
the  multitude  for  their  own  ends,  which  explains 
Shakespeare's  treatment  of  Jack  Cade's  rebellion. 

The  main  features  of  that  rebellion,  as  drawn  by 
Shakespeare,  are  to  be  found,  as  we  have  said,  in 
the  Lollard  revolt,  seventy  years  earlier  than  Cade's, 
under  Wat  Tyler.  That  revolt  originated  with  the 
teaching  of  Wychffe,  and  was  in  fact  the  popular 
interpretation  and  expression  of  his  doctrines.  His 
fundamental  tenet  in  religion  was  the  substitution 
of  the  Bible,  privately  interpreted,  for  the  authority 
of  the  Church.  The  Church,  in  his  creed,  was  the 
synagogue  of  Satan,  the  Pope  was  Antichrist,  or 
the  great  Beast,  and  the  Friars  were  his  tail. 
According  to  his  theory  of  dominion,  all  authority 
is  founded  on  grace,  and  each  individual  in  grace 
possesses  a   dominion  immediately  from  God,  and 


184  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

is  himself  to  judge  whether  others  are  in  grace 
or  sin.  The  loss  of  grace  entailed  the  forfeiture 
of  all  right  to  rule  or  possess.  Hence,  as  the 
Church  was,  according  to  Wycliffe,  essentially  evil, 
her  authority  was  to  be  rejected,  and  her  goods 
confiscated. 

From  the  spoliation  of  the  Church  to  that  of 
private  individuals,  the  transition  has  always  been 
easy  and  logical.  Hence  Socialism,  or  the  denial 
of  any  difference  of  rank,  and  communism  in  pro- 
perty were  openly  advocated  by  John  Ball,  the 
quondam  priest  and  half  -  crazed  Lollard  leader. 
"  Good  people,"  he  said,  "  things  will  never  go 
well  in  England  as  long  as  goods  are  not  in 
common,  and  as  long  as  there  be  villeins  and 
gentlemen.  By  what  right  are  they,  whom  we  call 
lords,  greater  folk  than  we  ?  On  what  grounds 
have  they  deserved  it  ?  Why  do  they  hold  us  in 
serfage  ?  If  we  all  come  of  the  same  father  and 
mother,  of  Adam  and  Eve,  how  can  they  say  or 
prove  that  they  are  better  than  we,  if  it  be  not 
that  they  make  us  gain  for  them  by  our  toil  what 
they  spend  in  their  pride  ? "  ^  And  he  inculcated 
his  teaching  by  the  popular  rhyme — 

"  When  Adam  delved  and  Eve  span, 
Where  was  then  the  gentleman  ? " 

Thus  envy,  discontent,  class  hatred,  bitter  and  deep, 
were  enkindled  by  specious  but  false  shibboleths, 

^  Green's  "  History  of  the  English  People,"  293. 


cade's  communism  185 

all  which  are  set  forth  almost  verbally  by  Shake- 
speare. "  It  was  never  a  merry  world  in  England," 
says  John,  "since  gentlemen  came  up."  "Virtue," 
replies  George,  "  is  not  regarded  in  handicraftsmen." 
Cade  declares,  "  Then  shall  be  in  England  seven 
halfpenny  loaves  sold  for  a  penny ;  the  three-hooped 
pot  shall  have  ten  hoops ;  and  I  will  make  it  felony 
to  drink  small  beer;  all  the  realm  shall  be  in 
common.  .  .  .  There  shall  be  no  money,  all  shall 
eat  and  drink  on  my  score :  and  I  will  apparel 
them  all  in  one  livery,  that  they  may  agree  like 
brothers,  and  worship  me,  their  lord."  Thus  in 
the  very  moment  that  Cade  proclaims  universal 
socialism  and  communism,  his  own  selfish  greed 
and  ambition  are  made  apparent,  no  less  than  the 
gullibility  of  his  dupes.  To  Cade's  declaration, 
"And  when  I  am  king — as  king  I  will  be,"  all 
say  "  God  save  your  Majesty."  They  were  evidently 
but  escaping  from  one  tyranny  to  another  more 
degrading  and  self-imposed. 

Again,  the  poet  reveals  to  us  the  morbid,  un- 
real sentimentalism  so  often  the  accompaniment  of 
democratic  cries.  Not  only  are  lawyers  to  be 
killed  and  all  "  ink-horn  mates,"  because  they  are 
the  supporters  of  the  existing  order  of  things,  and 
by  their  learning  make  themselves  better  than 
honest  labourers,  but  also  because  they  use  the 
"  skins  of  innocent  lambs "  for  parchment — a  cry 
we  have  heard  echoed,  though  to  other  tunes,  by 
anti-vivisectionists  and  other  humanitarian  reformers 


I  86  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

in  our  own  days.  It  is  to  be  observed  that  the 
senseless  hostility  to  education  manifested  in  the 
slaughter  of  the  ink-horn  men  had  a  kindred  origin 
to  the  opposite  cry  for  universal  education  in  our 
own  day,  as  announced  by  some  Socialist  leaders. 
In  both  cases  the  first  principle  is  absolute  equality. 
There  is  to  be  no  pre-eminence  due  to  natural 
talent,  industry,  or  position,  but  the  whole  world 
is  to  be  one  vast  trades  union,  where  all  are  kept 
by  law  at  the  same  dead  level  ot  ignorance  or 
knowledge. 

The  Lollard  use  of  the  Scriptures  also  finds  its 
place  in  Shakespeare.  Cade  meets  Stafford's  re- 
proach of  his  lowly  parentage  with  the  retort  from 
Ball's  preaching  "  Adam  was  a  gardener " ;  and 
John's  argument  that  the  magistrates  ought  not  to 
be  gentlemen,  but  taken  solely  from  working  men, 
is  proved  from  St.  Paul's  words,  "Labour  in  thy 
vocation."  So  again  George's  speech,  "  Then  sin  is 
struck  down  like  an  ox,  and  iniquity's  throat  cut 
like  a  calf,"  in  its  rhythm  and  repetition  manifestly 
affects  biblical  phraseology. 

The  democratic  morality,  as  exhibited  in  Cade's 
proclamation  of  his  future  policy  as  king,  is  not  of 
a  high  order.  After  declaring  that  a  poll  tax,  like 
that  which  had  raised  the  rebellion,  should  now  be 
confined  to  the  nobility  alone,  instead  of  coming 
down  to  the  daughters  of  blacksmiths  who  had 
reached  the  age  of  fifteen,  he  proceeds,  "  Then  shall 
not  a  maid  be  married  but  she  shall  pay  to  me.  .  .  . 


NORWICH   REGISTERS  I  87 

Men  shall  hold  of  me  in  capite,  and  we  charge  and 
command  that  their  wives  should  be  as  free  as 
heart  can  wish  or  tongue  can  tell."  Thus  neither 
the  maiden  state  nor  the  marriage  tie  are  to  be 
henceforth  a  protection  against  the  legalised  licen- 
tiousness of  the  new  order.  Is  this  return  to 
universal  corruption  a  libel  on  the  Lollard  morals 
or  not  ? 

Now  we  are  possessed,  fortunately,  of  very  pre- 
cise information  on  the  subject.  The  Norfolk 
register,  now  in  the  archives  of  the  diocese  of 
Westminster,  contains  an  account  of  the  official 
examination  of  suspected  Lollards  by  the  Bishop  of 
Norwich  in  his  episcopal  visitations  of  his  diocese 
for  the  years  1428-30.1  Besides  the  Wycliffian 
heresjjBS  already  enumerated,  the  general  character 
of  the  doctrines  deposed  to  in  the  register  ex- 
hibits a  curious  compound  of  Pietistic  or  Quaker 
tenets  and  undisguised  licentiousness.  On  the  one 
hand,  the  appeal  to  arms  in  behalf  of  the  State  or  for 
any  hereditary  right,  the  recourse  to  legal  redress, 
the  taking  of  oaths  or  swearing  in  any  form  are 
alike  declared  unlawful ;  and  on  the  other  hand  the 
doctrine  of  free  love,  as  it  is  now  termed,  was  openly 
advocated.  Foxe  says  that  the  denial  of  matrimony 
only  referred  "  as  it  is  likely  "  to  its  being  a  sacra- 
ment, and  that  the  papists  "  are  but  quarrel-pickers 
in    the    matter."       The  Wycliffian   doctrine   which 

\}  By  the  kindness  of  Father  Gasquet  we  have  been  enabled  to 
examine  his  copies  of  these  documents. 


I  88  ENGLISH   HTSTOKICAL   PLAYS 

nearly  all  the  Lollard  prisoners  held — that  consent 
of  the  heart  alone,  or  mutual  love,  sufficed  for 
matrimony — might  indeed  mean  no  more  than  that 
the  essence  of  the  contract  consisted  in  that  mutual 
surrender.  But  it  is  self-evident  that  a  purely 
interior  consent  could  never  constitute  any  external 
bond,  while  it  could  be  repudiated  at  any  time,  and 
did  not  necessarily  imply  more  than  a  temporary 
union.  However,  the  evidence  of  William  Colyn 
Skinner  of  Treyk,  near  Burnham  Westgate,  shows 
unmistakeably  what  the  Lollard  doctrine  meant  to 
his  mind.  He  advocated  openly  the  community  of 
women  and  the  annulment  of  the  marriage  tie  for 
the  space  of  seven  years,  or  at  least  some  notable 
time.  Some  of  his  statements  connected  with  the 
subject  are  at  once  too  blasphemous  and  coarse  for 
quotation. 

Of  the  fifty-three  men  and  five  women  proceeded 
against  as  Lollards  in  these  visitations,  the  greater 
number  appear  to  have  belonged  to  the  artisan  or 
small  tradesmen  class.  The  list  contains  Tailors, 
Millers,  Parchyn  makers,  Carpenters,  Tylers,  Sowters, 
Skynners,  Glovers,  Shipmen,  Watermen,  Cordwainers, 
all  belonging  therefore  to  the  same  social  grade  as 
Dick  the  Butcher,  Smith  the  Weaver,  and  Cade  the 
Clothier  in  Shakespeare's  play. 

The  Norwich  Lollards  all  accepted  the  public 
penances  imposed  and  recanted  their  errors.  Their 
heresy  and  licentiousness  they  appear  to  have  learnt 
in  the  first  instance  from  the  leaders  of  the  move- 


PRECURSORS    OF   THE   REFORMATION         1 89 

ment,  apostate  priests,  like  William  White,  who, 
according  to  Foxe,  "was  as  a  morning  star  in  the 
midst  of  a  cloud,"  and  "  took  unto  him  a  goodly 
young  woman  to  wife,  named  Joan."  ^ 

How  far  Lollardy  was  the  lineal  progenitor  of  the 
Keformation  is  a  disputed  point.  The  comparative 
apathy  with  which  the  movement  was  regarded  by 
the  country  at  large,  the  ease  with  which  it  was 
suppressed,  and  its  almost  complete  disappearance 
towards  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  and  beginning  of 
the  sixteenth  centuries,  have  led  many  writers  to 
regard  the  two  movements  as  completely  distinct. 
Yet  the  Lollard  repudiation  of  authority  both  in 
Church  and  State  may  surely  be  regarded  as  pre- 
paring the  way  for  the  final  revolt  of  the  sixteenth 
century,^  and  Shakespeare's  sketch  of  Cade's  rebellion 
leaves  little  doubt  of  how  he  regarded  the  Reforma- 
tion itself,  or  its  precursors.  It  should  also  be  noted 
that  he  must  have  been  in  all  probability  well 
acquainted  with  Foxe's  book,  for  by  a  decree  of 
Elizabeth,  the  first  English  edition  of  the  work,  in 
1563,  was  placed  in  every  chancel  and  vestry  for 
the  public  to  read ;  while  Foxe  himself  was  tutor  to 
Sir  Thomas  Lucy  of  Charlecote,  the  father  probably 
of  Shakespeare's  persecutor,  not  that  persecutor 
himself,    as    Milner    supposes.^       Foxe    took    the 

1  "  Acts  and  Monuments,"  iii.  591.     1837. 

2  "With  the  appearance  of  the  Lollards,"  Mr.  Freeman  says, 
"  the  Church  and  the  Nation  ceased  to  be  fully  one,  and  the  puzzles 
and  controversies  of  modern  times  had  their  beginning." — •*  His- 
torical Essays,"  123.     1 87 1.  3  .«Life  of  Foxe,"  vi.     1837. 


190  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

tutor's  place  in  1540,  or  twenty-four  years  before 
Shakespeare's  birth,  and  forty-one  before  the  deer- 
stealing  incident. 

Shakespeare's  sentiments  as  to  the  Church  and  its 
relations  with  the  State,  and  the  effect  of  its  influ- 
ence have  been  already  in  part  set  forth,  in  our  study 
of  the  character  of  Pandulph  in  "  King  John."  We 
will  now  endeavour  to  trace  them  further,  as  they 
appear  in  his  views  of  "  the  Politicians,"  of  liberty  of 
conscience,  and  lastly,  in  his  portraits  of  individual 
churchmen. 

The  Politicians  were  in  Shakespeare's  days  re- 
garded as  a  sect.  The  name  was  first  given  to  the 
"  liberal  *'  Catholics  or  third  party,  which  was  formed 
in  France  under  Henry  III.,  during  the  wars  between 
the  Huguenots  and  Catholics.  The  term  is  applied  by 
Davila  ^  to  those  who  hold  that  the  State  ought  not 
to  recognise  any  essential  difference  between  one  reli- 
gion and  another.  According  to  Stapleton,  "the  Poli- 
ticians hated  zeal,  winked  at  reUgious  discords,  and 
declared  that  governments,  not  being  charged  with 
the  management  of  religion,  had  no  right  to  endanger 
the  national  welfare  by  attempts  to  suppress  heresies."^ 
The  odium  in  which  they  were  held  by  CathoHcs  is 
seen  by  Fitzherbert's  definition  of  them  as  "  statists, 
who  prefer  things  less  worthy  before  the  more  worthy, 
inferior  things  before  superior,  corporal  before 
spiritual,  temporal  before  eternal."     "  PoUtikes,"  he 

*  Storia  delU  Ouerre  eivili  in  Francia,  lib.  v.,  ad.  an.  1573. 
-  Sermo  contra  Politicos. 


THE    "POLITICIANS  I9I 

says,  "  admitting  in  show  all  religions,  have  in  truth 
no  religion,  denying  God's  providence  in  the  affairs 
of  men,  which  is  the  ground  of  all  religion  .  .  .  ac- 
knowledge the  necessity  of  religion  for  the  State,  but 
prefer  in  all  things  reason  of  State  before  reason  of 
religion,  as  though  religion  were  ordained  only  for 
service  of  commonwealth  .  .  .  use  religion  as  a  bugbear 
to  frighten  men  into  obedience  to  the  law  .  .  .  care 
not  greatly  what  religion  is  professed,  so  that  people 
believe  in  a  God  who  rewards  and  punishes."  ^ 

The  Politiques  then,  properly  defined,  were  those 
who,  utterly  indifferent  to  religion  themselves,  used 
it  or  discarded  it,  according  to  the  exigencies  of 
statecraft.  They  thus  represented  the  modern  school 
of  Liberalism,  as  understood  in  its  foreign  sense, 
and  as  such  were  denounced  by  the  earnest  men 
of  every  creed.  Their  leading  doctrines  were  con- 
demned, three  centuries  later,  by  the  Encyclical  of 
Pius  XI 

How,  then,  does  Shakespeare  regard  them  ?  If 
he  were  a  broad-minded,  vague  rationalist,  superior 
to  theological  dogmas  of  all  kinds,  a  teacher  of 
nature  and  nothing  more,  as  he  is  so  often  re- 
presented, he  would  surely  have  gladly  identified 
himself  with  their  teaching.  But,  as  a  fact,  his 
attitude  towards  them  is  exactly  the  reverse.  He 
denounces  them  in  no  sparing  terms.  He  makes 
Hotspur  exclaim  against  the  "  vile  politician  Boling- 
broke"  ("  i    Henry  IV.,"   i.    3),   and   Hamlet   talk 

"Policy  and  Religion,"  vol.  1.  (1605),  Pref.  Nos.  i  and  2. 


192  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

of  the  politician  who  "would  circumvent  God" 
("  Hamlet,"  v.  i ).  Policy  is  a  "  heretic,"  because  it 
"  works  on  leases  of  short-numbered  hours,"  instead 
of  working  for  eternity.  Policy,  in  its  general  sense, 
is  the  degradation  of  a  moral  act  from  its  moral 
purpose  to  some  utiHtarian  end,  and  is  used  very 
much  as  "  Commodity "  in  "  King  John."  With 
Polonius  it  catches  truth  with  false  baits,  and  hence 
the  "  scurvy  politician  "  is  said  to  "  seem  to  see  the 
things  he  does  not"  ("Lear,"  iv.  6);  "base  and 
rotten  policy  "  will  adopt  any  disguise  that  is  not  too 
painful  ("I  Henry  IV.,"  i.  3);  it  will  "beat  his 
ofFenceless  dog  to  affright  an  imperious  lion" 
("  Othello,"  ii.  3) ;  and  hence,  when  it  "  sits  above 
conscience,"  pity  is  dispensed  with  ("  Timon,"  iii.  2). 
Shakespeare,  then,  could  not  endure  the  principles  of 
the  "  Politiques,"  and  denounced  them  as  a  party. 

But  if  such  were  Shakespeare's  opinion  of  the 
Politicians,  how,  it  may  fairly  be  asked,  did  he 
advocate,  as  he  does,  liberty  of  conscience,  or  uni- 
versal toleration,  which  would  seem  to  be  one  of 
their  leading  principles  ?  Liberty  of  conscience,  then, 
may  be  taken  in  two  senses.  It  may  mean  that 
there  is  no  fixed  truth  or  absolute  right  or  wrong, 
and  that  every  man  is  free  to  teach  or  do  as  he 
pleases,  and  that  the  State  itself  should  be  Godless. 
In  this  sense  the  Politicians  seem  to  have  used  it, 
and  in  this  sense  it  was  condemned  by  Shakespeare, 
who  makes  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek  say  he  had  as 
lief  be   a  Brownist,  or  the  wildest  heretic,  "  as   a 


LIBERTY   OF   CONSCIENCE  1 93 

Politician."  But  liberty  of  conscience  may  also 
mean  that  every  man  has  a  right  by  nature  to  serve 
God,  and  obey  His  commands  without  let  or  hind- 
rance, and  so  to  attain  his  end.  This  is  the  liberty 
which  the  Apostles  claimed,  for  which  the  first 
Christian  Apologists  ever  contended,  and  the  Martyrs 
shed  their  blood.  Now  it  was  this  true  liberty 
which  the  Tudor  tyranny  destroyed.  Their  axiom 
was  cujus  regio,  ejus  et  religio.  A  man  must  be 
of  the  religion  of  his  country,  and  as  the  Crown 
fixed  that  religion,  the  subject's  conscience  was  not 
his  own  but  the  king's.  And  the  king  was  himself, 
according  to  the  post-Reformation  theory,  of  divine 
right,  absolute  and  infallible.  "  He  made,"  as  James  I. 
said,  "  Law  and  Gospel,"  and  he  made  both  as  his 
whim  pleased  him. 

Against  this  degrading  tyranny  Shakespeare  pro- 
tested in  Henry  V.'s  axiom  that  "every  man's 
duty  is  the  king's,  but  every  man's  conscience  is 
his  own."  Not  his  own,  that  is,  against  the  law 
of  God,  nor  his  own  as  against  duly  consti- 
tuted civil  authority  within  its  own  domain;  but 
his  own  in  matters  spiritual,  against  the  purely 
civil  authority  of  a  State,  which  had  arrogated  to 
itself  the  right  to  force  its  subjects  to  embrace  the 
State  creed.  Now  this  is  the  very  plea  which 
Parsons  puts  forth  contemporaneously  with  Shake- 
speare. "  Neither  breathing,  nor  the  use  of  common 
air  is  more  due  unto  good  subjects,  or  common  to 
all,  than  ought  to  be  liberty  of  conscience  to  Christian 

N 


194  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

men,  whereby  each  one  liveth  to  God  and  to  himself, 
and  without  which  he  struggleth  with  the  torment  of 
a  continual,  lingering  death.  .  .  .  Let  them  show  but 
one  only  authority,  example,  or  testimony  out  of 
Scriptures,  Fathers,  or  Councils,  that  we  must  obey 
princes  against  our  conscience  and  religion,  and  I 
will  grant  he  saith  something  to  the  purpose."  ^ 

This  indeed  was  the  common  plea  of  all  the 
Elizabethan  martyrs.  While  they  obeyed  the  State 
in  civil  matters,  they  had  a  right  to  be  free  in 
following  a  religion  which  did  not  interfere  with 
that  civil  obedience.  They  did  not  say  that  the 
State  ought  to  be  godless,  or  that  a  State  without 
religion  was  in  the  abstract  the  most  perfect  order 
of  government,  which  was  then  the  theory  of  the 
Politicians,  as  now  of  the  Liberals.  But  they  main- 
tained that  when  a  new  religion  was  being  intro- 
duced, they  had  a  right  in  nature  to  follow  the 
Christian  faith  of  their  fathers,  if  their  conscience 
bid  them  do  so. 

We  come  now  to  the  third  point — Shakespeare's 
portraiture  of  the  churchmen  in  the  historical 
plays.  The  characters,  as  he  has  drawn  them,  of 
Cardinal  Beaufort  and  of  Wolsey  are  often  quoted 
as  decisive  proof  of  Shakespeare's  anti-Catholic 
sentiments. 

According  to  the  great  majority  of  critics,  the 
first  part  of  "  Henry  VI."  is  an  old  play  and  not 

1  "The  Judgment  of  a  Catholic  Englishman,"  38,  §  20,  and  51, 
§31- 


CARDINAL   BEAUFORT  I  95 

Shakespeare's  work,  who,  if  he  adopted  it,  at  most 
retouched  it  here  and  there,  and  cannot,  therefore, 
be  held  responsible  for  every  line  it  contains.  It 
is  a  relief  that  this  is  so,  and  that  we  are  therefore 
not  obliged  to  regard  the  repulsive  caricature  of 
the  Maid  of  Orleans  as  by  Shakespeare's  hand. 
The  character  of  Beaufort  is  equally  unhistorical, 
especially  the  well-known  death-scene.  The  Car- 
dinal, in  fact,  retired  from  political  life  some  years 
before  his  death,  and  lived  in  his  See  of  Win- 
chester, where  he  spent  his  money  in  works  of 
charity,  and  founded  and  endowed  the  Hospital 
of  St.  Cross.  By  his  own  desire  he  was  laid  out 
before  his  death  in  the  great  Hall  of  his  Palace,  and 
had  the  Absolutions  pronounced  over  him,  which 
function,  however  eccentric,  manifests  a  very  oppo- 
site spirit  to  the  reprobate,  despairing  end  of  the 
prelate  in  the  play.  The  anachronisms  in  regard 
to  him  are  also  somewhat  startling.  In  the  first 
act,  Beaufort  is  called  a  Cardinal,  in  order  to  intro- 
duce Gloucester's  famous  lines  about  trampling  on 
the  Cardinal's  hat;  yet  he  is  not  raised  till  the 
fifth  act  to  the  dignity  of  the  Sacred  College.  But, 
granted  for  the  sake  of  argument  that  Shakespeare 
must  be  held  responsible  for  the  play,  since  he 
allowed  it  to  bear  his  name,  the  condemnatory 
terms  applied  to  the  Cardinal  are  only  those  which 
a  Catholic  might  use  of  an  unworthy,  wicked  prelate. 
The  charges  are  all  personal,  not  doctrinal. 

There  is  only  one  line  which  seems  to  give  coun- 


196  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

>  tenance  to  the  doctrine  that  the  Church  grants 
mdulgences  to  commit  sin.  This  line,  which  need 
not  be  quoted,  refers  absolutely  to  some  disreput- 
able houses,  from  the  licensing  of  which  the  Bishops 
of  Winchester  drew  some  small  portion  of  their  in- 
come, and  thus  gave  public  scandal.  The  reproach, 
therefore,  uttered  by  Gloucester,  whether  written  by 
Shakespeare  or  allowed  by  him  to  remain,  was  both 
intrinsically  probable  and  morally  correct.  Doubt- 
less such  licences  were  granted  by  the  Bishops' 
agents,  and  secular  governments  do,  in  certain 
countries,  grant  such  licences  in  our  own  day. 
Nevertheless,  it  was  an  undoubted  abuse  that  a 
Bishop  should  derive  any  profit  from  such  places, 
and  the  trafficking  in  them  is  wholly  opposed  to 
the  legislative  principles  on  this  matter  laid  down 
in  "  Measure  for  Measure." 

With  regard  to  Wolsey,  his  faults  and  sins  are 
precisely  those  which  Catholics  had  to  deplore  in 
the  worldly,  ambitious,  Erastian  prelates  of  the  time, 
because  of  the  incalculable  injury  they  inflicted  on 
the  Church.  Wolsey 's  covetousness  had  led  to  the 
suppression  of  the  smaller  monasteries,  and  to  the 
unjust  taxation  and  misery  of  the  people.  His  in- 
satiable ambition  had  induced  him  to  suggest  the 
divorce  of  Henry  from  Catherine,  in  order  to  re- 
venge himself  on  her  nephew,  the  Emperor  Charles 
v.,  for  not  supporting  his  pretensions  to  the  Papacy. 
Finally,  his  greed  of  power  and  place  made  him 
descend  to  the  "  utter  meanness  "  of  advocating  the 


THE   CHURCH    AND    SCANDALS  1 97 

substitution  of  Anne  Bolejn,  whose  licentiousness 
he  well  knew,  in  the  place  of  the  noble  and  pure 
Catherine  of  Arragon  as  Henry's  wife.  The  denun- 
ciation of  the  Cardinal  by  Catherine  is  not  then  more 
severe  than  might  have  been  fitly  employed  by  any 
Catholic  historian. 

Again,  the  reflection  on  the  Cardinal's  morality 
(iii.  2)  has  been  specified  as  an  undoubted  proof  of 
Shakespeare's  Protestantism.  But  have  Catholic 
writers  never  censured  the  evil  lives  of  churchmen 
in  high  places  ?  Have  not  Dante  and  Petrarch,  for 
instance,  pronounced  similar  strictures  ?  Of  what 
religion  was  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  when  she  wrote 
to  Gregory  XI. :  "  Our  Lord  holds  in  aversion  these 
detestable  vices,  impurity,  avarice,  and  pride,  and 
they  all  reign  in  the  Spouse  of  Christ,  especially,  at 
least,  among  her  prelates,  who  seek  after  nothing 
but  pleasures,  honours,  and  riches.  They  see  the 
demons  of  hell  carrying  off*  the  souls  confided  to 
them,  and  they  care  nothing  at  all  about  it,  because 
they  are  wolves  and  traffic  with  divine  grace."  ^ 
Blessed  John  Fisher  admits,  in  answer  to  the 
Lutheran  objection,  that  the  lives  of  the  prelates 
(proceres)  at  Rome  were  most  diametrically  opposed 
to  the  life  of  Christ,  and  that  their  greed,  vainglory, 
luxury,  and  lust  caused  the  name  of  Christ  to  be 
everywhere  blasphemed.^  But  this,  he  says,  only 
confirms    his    argument    for    the   indefectibility    of 

^  Letter  41,  Drane's  "  Life  of  S.  Catherine  of  Siena,"  246,  247. 
1880.  2  Opp.  p.  1370.   Wiceburg,  1597, 


198  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

the  faith  of  Peter  and  his  successors,  seeing  that 
the  preservation  of  Peter's  See  and  of  the  Church 
founded  thereon,  notwithstanding  all  these  scandals, 
proves  the  triumphant  fulfilment  of  Christ's  promises. 
Shakespeare's  adverse  comment  on  Wolsey  s 
moral  character  is  not,  then,  inconsistent  with  his 
Catholicism  ;  but  further,  his  portrait  of  the  Cardinal 
is  actually  copied  from  the  description  given  of  him 
by  the  B.  Edmund  Campion,  the  first  Jesuit  martyr/ 
"This  Cardinal,"  says  Hollinshed,  "(as  Edmund 
Campion  in  History  of  Ireland  describeth  him) 
was  a  man  undoubtedly  born  to  honour.  '  I  think,* 
said  he,  *  some  prince's  bastard,  no  butcher's  son, 
exceeding  wise,  fair-spoken,  high-minded,  full  of 
revenge,  vicious  of  his  body,^  lofty  to  his  enemies, 
were  they  never  so  big,  to  those  that  accepted  and 
sought  his  friendship  wonderful  courteous;  a  ripe 
schoolman,  thrall  to  affections,  brought  abed  with 
flattery,  insatiable  to  get  and  more  princely  in 
bestowing,  as  appeareth  by  his  two  Colleges  at 
Ipswich  and  Oxenford,  the  one  overthrown  with  his 
fall,  the  other  unfinished,  and  as  yet  as  it  lieth,  for 
an  House  of  Students,  considering  all  the  appur- 
tenances, incomparable  through  Christendom ;  a 
great  preferrer  of  his  servants  and  advancer  of 
learning;  stout  in  every  quarrel;  never  happy  till 


1  Hollinshed,  "Chronicles  of  England,"  iii.  756.    1808.     (Reprint 
of  1586.) 

2  "  Vir  magnificentissimus,  cruciendus,  confidens,  scortator,  simu- 
lator."— Campioni  opusc. 


wolsey's  portrait  199 

his  overthrow,  wherein  he  showed  such  moderation 
and  ended  so  perfectly,  that  the  hour  of  his  death 
did  him  more  honour  than  all  the  pomp  of  his 
life  passed.'     Thus  far  Campion." 

"With  this  material  before  him,  Shakespeare 
makes  Catherine  with  Griffith  speak  of  Wolsey  as 
follows : — 

"  Catherine.  ...  He  was  a  man 
Of  an  unbounded  stomach,  ever  ranking 
Himself  with  princes  ;  one  that  by  suggestion 
Tied  all  the  kingdom  :  simony  was  fair  play  ; 
His  own  opinion  was  his  law.     I'  the  presence 
He  would  say  untruths  ;  and  be  ever  double 
Both  in  his  words  and  meaning.     He  was  never 
But  where  he  meant  to  ruin,  pitiful : 
His  promises  were,  as  he  then  was,  mighty  ; 
But  his  performance,  as  he  is  now,  nothing. 
Of  his  own  body  he  was  ill,  and  gave 
Tlie  clergy  ill  example. 

Griffith,  Noble  Madam, 

Men's  evil  manners  live  in  brass  ;  their  virtues 
We  write  in  water.     May  it  please  your  Highness 
To  hear  me  speak  his  good  now  ? 

Catherine.  Yes,  good  Griffith 

I  were  malicious  else. 

Griffith.  This  Cardinal, 

Though  from  an  humble  stock,  undoubtedly 
Was  fashioned  to  much  honour  from  his  cradle. 
He  was  a  scholar,  and  a  ripe  and  good  one  : 
Exceeding  wise,  fair  spoken,  and  persuading  : 
Lofty  and  sour  to  them  that  loved  him  not, 
But  to  those  men  that  sought  him  sweet  as  summer. 
And  though  he  were  unsatisfied  in  getting 
(Which  was  a  sin),  yet  in  bestowing,  Madam, 
He  was  most  princely  :  ever  witness  for  him 
Those  twins  of  learning  that  he  raised  in  you, 
Ipswich  and  Oxford  !  one  of  which  fell  with  him, 


200  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

Unwilling  to  outlive  the  good  that  did  it ; 

The  other,  though  unfinished,  yet  so  famous, 

So  excellent  in  art,  and  still  so  rising. 

That  Christendom  shall  ever  speak  his  virtue. 

His  overthrow  heaped  happiness  upon  him  ; 

For  then,  and  not  till  then,  he  felt  himself, 

And  found  the  blessedness  of  being  little  : 

And  to  add  greater  honours  to  his  age 

Than  man  could  give  him,  he  died  fearing  God  "  (iv.  2). 

But  there  is  another  churchman  in  "  Henry  VIII.," 
whose  language  is  often  quoted  as  decisive  against 
Shakespeare's  CathoUcism.  This  is  Cranmer  and  his 
prophecy  at  the  baptism  of  EHzabeth. 

"  Good  grows  with  her, 
In  her  days,  every  man  shall  eat  in  safety 
Under  his  own  vine  what  he  plants,  and  sing 
The  merry  songs  of  peace  to  all  his  neighbours  : 
God  shall  be  truly  known  "  (v.  4). 

Now  this  quotation,  again,  is  really  beside  the 
mark,  for  the  best  critics  agree  that  the  fifth  act,  in 
which  it  occurs,  with  the  exception  of  scene  i,  is 
certainly  not  Shakespeare's,  but  an  addition  of 
Fletcher's.  Its  genuineness  is  rejected  on  the 
grounds  of  its  metre,  style,  and  evident  disconnec- 
tion with  the  four  previous  acts.  The  arguments 
on  style  would  take  us  beyond  our  scope,  but  those 
regarding  a  metrical  test  are  worth  considering. 
The  blank  verse,  as  introduced  by  Surrey  from  Italy 
in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  consisted  of  ten  syllables 
of  iambic  measure,  and  to  this  metre  Shakespeare 
more  generally  adhered.     Even   in  his   later  plays 


THE    FIFTH    ACT  201 

of  "  Cymbeline  "  and  the  "  Winter  s  Tale,"  the  pro- 
portion of  Hnes,  in  which  the  eleventh  or  redundant 
syllable  is  employed,  is  on  an  average,  according  to 
Mr.  Spedding,  about  one  in  three,  while  in  the  fifth 
act  the  average  of  the  redundant  lines  is  one  in  two. 
But  by  the  same  test  no  less  than  eight  scenes  of 
the  four  previous  acts  are  declared  ungenuine,  and 
there  only  remain  to  Shakespeare,  Act  i.  1,2;  Act  ii. 
3,  4;  Act  iii.  2,  to  exit  of  the  king.  Act  v.  i, 
altered  by  Shakespeare,  the  rest  being  all  by 
Fletcher.  This  result  is  confirmed,  in  Mr.  Sped- 
ding's  judgment,  by  the  peculiarities  of  style  in  the 
parts  thus  assigned  to  the  respective  poets.  Now, 
while  recognising  Mr.  Spedding  s  pre-eminent  autho- 
rity on  this  subject,  it  may  be  stated  that  there  is 
an  opinion  on  the  other  side  advanced  by  H.  Morley 
(Introduction  to  "  Henry  VIIL,"  p.  xx.),  that  the 
redundant  eleventh  syllable  was  used  intentionally 
to  express  by  its  cadence  the  idea  of  failure  intended 
to  be  conveyed.     Thus  in  Wolsey's  speech  — 

"  So  farewell  to  the  little  good  you  bear  wc." 

the  redundant  syllable  breaks  the  pomp  of  each 
verse  at  the  close,  and  gives  to  it  a  dying  fall  that 
suits  the  theme,  the  broken  pomps  of  life,  the  wave 
that  rolls  to  its  full  height,  then  bows  its  head  and 
falls.  If  this  be  tenable,  we  are  not  obliged  to 
surrender  our  traditional  belief  as  to  the  Shake- 
spearian origin  of  many  of  the  finest  passages  from 
the  plays. 


202  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

More  cogent,  however,  to  us  than  the  objection 
from  metre  is  that  of  the  absolute  estrangement  of 
the  fifth  act  from  the  remainder  of  the  play,  and 
from  its  expressed  intention,  as  announced  in  both 
prologue  and  epilogue.  These  two  pieces,  whoever 
was  their  author,  may  be  assumed  to  represent 
correctly  the  contents  of  the  drama  to  which  they 
are  affixed. 

The  purpose  of  the  play,  then,  according  to  the 
prologue,  is  to  tell  the  truth  and  to  show  the  stern 
but  sad  realities  of  life,  "  mightiness  meeting  misery." 
The  scenes  depicted  may  cause  pity  and  tears,  but 
not  laughter.  There  may  be  a  show  or  two  but  no 
burlesque,  no  noise  of  targets,  nor  fellow  in  long 
motley  coat,  guarded  with  yellow;  for  truth  is  not 
to  be  "  mated  with  fool  or  fight."  This  is  all  lite- 
rally adhered  to  in  the  first  four  acts,  which  contain 
one  pageant,  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold  and 
Anne  Boleyn's  marriage  procession,  but  no  burlesque  ; 
while  in  the  fifth  act  there  is  a  very  coarse  farce 
between  the  porter  and  his  men  and  the  crowd  for 
the  christening. 

The  epilogue,  again,  apologises  for  the  mournful 
tone  of  the  concluded  play,  which  contains  neither 
witticisms  nor  satire,  and  can  hope  for  support  only 
"  in  the  merciful  construction  of  good  women  " — 

"  For  such  a  one  we  showed  them." 

Now,  Anne  Boleyn  could  never  have  been  called  a 
good  woman,  whatever  other  qualities    may  have 


AN    ANTI-CLIMAX  203 

made  her  so  attractive  to  Henry,  and  in  the  first 
four  acts  she  is  kept  well  in  the  background.  On 
the  other  hand,  "  the  afflictions,  the  virtues,  and  the 
patience  of  Catherine  are,"  in  Mr.  Spedding's  words, 
"elaborately  exhibited."  Our  whole  sympathy  is 
evoked  exclusively  in  behalf  of  the  deposed  queen, 
and  our  indignation  is  roused  at  the  shameless 
wrong  done  her.  Yet  Henry,  the  perpetrator  of  the 
iniquity,  the  ruthless  sacrificer  of  a  pure  and  noble 
wife  for  a  licentious  caprice,  euphemistically  termed 
his  conscience ;  Anne,  his  accomplice  in  the  evil 
deed, "  a  spleeny  Lutheran  "  ;  and  Cranmer,  the  servile 
minister  of  their  passions  under  the  cloak  of  religion, 
the  arch-heretic  "  who  has  crawled  into  favour,"  are 
all  three,  without  explanation,  repentance,  or  any 
justifying  cause,  crowned  in  the  fifth  act  with  the 
full  blaze  of  earthly  glory  and  the  promise  of  happi- 
ness to  come.  "  It  is,"  says  Mr.  Spedding,  "  as  if 
Nathan's  rebuke  to  David  had  ended,  not  with  the 
doom  of  death  to  the  child  just  born,  but  with  a 
prophetic  promise  of  the  felicities  of  Solomon." 

The  fifth  act,  then,  forms  no  part  of  the  original 
play,  while  the  first  four  acts  exhibit  by  themselves 
a  strict  dramatic  unity.  And  the  moral  they  teach 
is  exactly  opposite  to  what  would  have  been  drawn 
by  any  Protestant  dramatist  of  the  time.  Had 
Fletcher,  or  Munday,  or  Marlowe  written  on  such  a 
theme  as  Henry  VIII.,  we  should  have  beheld  the 
Reformation  as  the  heroic  act  of  his  reign,  and 
Catherine  and  her  daughter  Mary  would  pale  before 


204  ENGLISH    HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

Anife  Boleyn  and  her  daughter  Elizabeth.  Shake- 
speare, as  we  have  seen,  places  exactly  the  reverse 
before  us.  He  exposes  the  Tudor  tyranny  in  its 
worst  features,  and  its  victims  are  in  turn  the 
objects  of  our  admiration.  Catherine  is  the  heroine 
of  the  piece ;  the  despised  Buckingham,  and  Wolsey, 
after  his  fall,  command  our  respect ;  while  the  mar- 
tyred Sir  Thomas  More,  whom  Hall  ridicules  as  "  a 
wise  foolish  man,"  ^  and  the  courtier  Hollinshed 
describes  as  having  forfeited  God's  grace,  through 
the  misuse  of  the  gifts  he  had  received,  and  Donne 
derided  as  an  obstinate  fanatic,  is  prayed  for,  as 
follows,  by  Wolsey : — 

"  May  he  do  justice, 
For  trutli's  sake,  and  his  innocence,  that  his  bones, 
Wlien  he  has  run  his  course  and  sleeps  in  blessings. 
May  have  a  tomb  of  orphans'  tears  wept  on  them  "  (iii.  2). 

The  prayer  is  in  truth  a  panegyric.  We  need  not 
wonder  that  Dr.  DoUinger  should  have  said,  as  has 
already  been  stated,  that  the  play  of  "  Henry  VIII." 
was  a  striking  evidence  of  the  Catholic  opinions  of 
the  poet. 

How,  then,  it  may  be  asked,  was  the  fifth  act 
added  ?  The  original  play  was  probably  first  acted 
in  1603,  the  year  of  James*  succession,  when  Catho- 
lics hoped  for  comparative  toleration  from  him, 
after  the  persecution  of  Elizabeth,  and  a  piece  con- 
ceived in  an  anti-Tudor  spirit  might  hope  for  some 

^  Chronicles  of  England,  817.     1548. 


THE    MINOR   PRELATES  20 5 

chance  of  success.  Too  soon,  however,  it  was  found 
that  James  could  oppress  his  Catholic  subjects  even 
more  cruelly  than  his  predecessors,  and  the  play 
was  dropped.  In  161 2  Shakespeare  retired  wholly 
from  the  stage,  sold  his  plays  and  theatrical  pro- 
perty to  Alleyne,  and  the  new  piece,  as  adapted  and 
altered,  with  the  fifth  act  added  to  suit  a  Jacobean 
audience,  was  the  work  of  Fletcher. 

The  portraiture  of  the  remaining  prelates  in  the 
historical  plays,  the  scenes  of  which  are  laid  in 
Catholic  times,  betrays  nothing  inconsistent  with 
Shakespeare's  Catholicism.  "This  group,"  remarks 
Thummel,^  "  is  recruited  from  the  highest  houses  in 
England,  and  represents  a  stately  array  of  political 
lords  in  priestly  robes,  of  noble  descent,  true  priests, 
and  Englishmen  to  the  backbone."  They  were 
statesmen,  no  doubt,  for  as  spiritual  peers  they 
were  legislators  in  the  Upper  House  of  the  king- 
dom. Doubtless,  also,  their  policy  was  not  always 
disinterested  and  free  from  utiUtarian  motives.  But 
these  ecclesiastics  bear  no  resemblance  to  the  popular 
Protestant  idea  of  a  Catholic  prelate,  as  the  Bishop 
of  Rochester  in  Drayton's  play,  or  Munday's  Sir 
John  Oldcastle,  or  as  Marlowe  or  Fletcher  would 
have  portrayed  him,  a  serpentine,  foreign  intriguer, 
always  bent  on  betraying  the  interests  of  his  own 
country,  to  the  supposed  aggrandisement  of  Rome. 
At  their  head  stands  the  loyal  Bishop  of  Carlisle, 
who  alone  of  the  great  nobles  dared  to  resist  the 

"  Shakespeare,  Jahrhuch,  16,  361. 


206  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

usurping  Bolingbroke,  and  maintained  the  rights  of 
Richard — 


I  speak  to  subjects,  and  a  subject  speaks, 
Stirred  up  by  Heaven,  thus  boldly  for  his  king. 
My  lord  of  Hereford  here,  whom  you  call  king. 
Is  a  foul  traitor  to  proud  Hereford's  king." 

— Richard  II.,  iv.  i. 


And  Bolingbroke,  now  Henry  IV.,  in  sentencing  the 
Bishop  to  a  mild  imprisonment,  pays  tribute  to 
one  who,  though  ever  his  foe,  had  displayed  "  high 
sparks  of  honour." 

Again,  with  what  dignity  the  learned  and  vene- 
rable Archbishop  Scroop  defends  himself  against 
Lord  Westmoreland,  for  joining  in  the  insurrection 
against  the  same  Henry  IV. : — 


"  I  have  in  equal  balance  justly  weighed 
What  wrongs  our  arms  may  do,  what  wrongs  we  suflfer, 
And  find  our  griefs  heavier  than  our  offences. 
We  see  which  way  the  stream  of  time  doth  run, 
And  are  enforced  from  our  most  quiet  sphere 
By  the  rough  torrent  of  occasion  ; 
And  have  the  summary  of  all  our  griefs, 
When  time  shall  serve,  to  show  in  articles  ; 
Which,  long  ere  this,  we  offered  to  the  king. 
And  might  by  no  suit  gain  our  audience  : 
When  we  are  wronged,  and  would  unfold  our  griefs, 
We  are  denied  access  unto  his  person. 
Even  by  those  men  that  most  have  done  us  wrong. 
The  dangers  of  the  days  but  nearly  gone 
(Whose  memory  is  written  on  the  earth 
With  yet  appearing  blood),  and  the  examples 
Of  every  minute's  instance  (present  now), 


THE    NORTHERN   RISING  20/ 

Have  put  us  to  these  ill-beseeming  arms  : 
Not  to  break  peace  or  any  branch  of  it, 
But  to  establish  here  a  peace  indeed, 
Concurring  both  in  name  and  quality." 

— 2  Henry  JF.,  iv.  i. 


He  was  no  partisan  or  turbulent  agitator.  The 
injuries  inflicted  by  the  king's  misrule  were  intoler- 
able. Each  household  of  the  Commonwealth  was 
in  suffering,  and  the  Archbishop  made  each  house- 
hold's wrong  his  own.  All  constitutional  means  of 
redress  had  proved  useless,  therefore  he  gave  "  the 
seal  divine  "  to  the  insurrection,  not  to  break  but  to 
establish  peace.  The  whole  tenor  of  the  insurgent 
manifesto  is  that  of  a  solemn  religious  protest  in 
defence  of  the  Church  of  Rome  and  England.  The 
document  charges  Henry  with  usurpation,  treason, 
perjury,  unjust  exactions,  violation  of  the  privilegmm 
cleri,  trying  clerics  before  the  secular  court.  The 
eighth  article  deposes  that  the  King  had  ratified 
"  that  most  wicked  statute  (of  prsemunire)  directed 
against  the  power  and  principality  of  the  Holy 
Roman  See  as  delivered  by  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
to  the  Blessed  Peter  and  his  successors."  Then, 
after  proceeding  to  specify  the  abuses  springing  from 
the  royal  patronage  of  benefices,  such  as  the  general, 
simoniacal  promotion  of  rude  and  unworthy  persons 
for  the  half  or  the  third  part  of  the  benefices  so 
bestowed,  it  concludes  by  saying  "  that  the  same 
most  wicked  statute  is  not  only  opposed  to  the 
rights  of  St.  Peter,  but  that  it  is  destruction  to  the 


208  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

clergy,  to  the  knighthood  and  republic  of  the  realm, 
because  from  one  thing  another  always  follows."^ 
The  framers  of  the  complaint  seem  to  have  been 
convinced  that  the  liberty  of  the  Church  guaranteed 
that  of  the  State;  and  it  was  in  defence  of  both 
realms,  civil  as  well  as  spiritual,  that  the  Archbishop 
gave  his  life.  Shakespeare's  treatment  of  the  Arch- 
bishop is  wholly  in  keeping  with  the  facts  of  history 
and  the  popular  cultus  he  afterwards  received  as  a 
saint  and  martyr. 

The  two  prelates  in  "  Henry  V.,"  Henry  Chicheley, 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  the  Bishop  of  Ely,  are 
often  instanced  as  examples  of  time-serving  Church- 
men who  preferred  a  policy  of  utilitarian  bloodshed 
to  the  interests  of  justice  and  peace.  Their  argu- 
ments on  behalf  of  Henry's  claims  to  the  French 
crown  are  taken  literally  from  Hollinshed,  and  their 
pleadings,  however  worldly,  were  first  advocated  by 
Edward  III.,  and  were  held,  in  their  own  time,  by 
the  king  and  country  at  large.  There  is  no  reason, 
then,  as  Bishop  Stubbs  points  out,  why  they,  more 
than  the  lay  Barons,  who  equally  advocated  an  appeal 
to  arms,  should  be  made  responsible  for  the  war 
Avhich  followed.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  as  the  same 
author  shows.  Archbishop  Chicheley  was  not  present 
at  the  Parliament  of  Leicester;^  but  it  is  by  no 
means  improbable  that  the  Bishops  espoused  the 
popular  feeling  in  favour  of  the  invasion  of  France, 
both  as  a  means  of  uniting  the  country  within  and 

1  Foxe.  iii.  233-255.  ^  Constitut.  Hist ,  iii.  81. 


CESSATION   OF   MIRACLES  209 

of  saving  the  Church  from  the  threatened  Spoliation 
Bill.  Shakespeare,  however,  has  profited  by  the 
prelates'  speeches,  as  recorded  in  the  Chronicles,  not 
to  expose  their  unworthy  motives  but  to  bring  out 
the  reverence  felt  by  Henry  V.  for  the  Church.  In 
the  introductory  discussion  between  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury  and  the  Bishop  of  Ely,  the  king  is 
described  as  full  of  grace  and  "  fair  regard,"  a  true 
lover  of  Holy  Church,  suddenly  changed  from  a  wild 
prince,  leagued  with  low  associates,  to  a  king  as  wise 
in  counsel  as  if  the  crown  had  been  his  lifelong 
study,  reasoning  in  divinity  like  a  bishop,  solving 
at  once  the  most  complicated  cases  in  policy,  so 
eloquent  that  his  discourse  on  war  seemed  like 

"  A  fearful  battle,  rendered  you  in  music." 

The  strawberry  thriving  beneath  the  nettle,  the 
summer  grass  growing  fastest  by  night,  are  but 
images  of  this  wonderful  conversion ;  and  Arch- 
bishop Chicheley  concludes  that  some  natural  means 
must  be  admitted,  "  since  miracles  have  ceased." 

These  last  words,  from  the  mouth  of  the  first 
prelate  of  the  kingdom,  are  taken  both  by  Gervinus  ^ 
and  Kreysig  ^  as  evidence  of  the  poet's  rationalistic 
spirit,  and  of  his  freedom  from  the  superstitions  of 
his  time.  If  so,  most  of  the  Fathers  were  equally 
enlightened,  for  the  cessation  of  miracles  is  a  common 
topic  with  them ;  and  they  explain  the  fact  by  show- 

1  iv.  420,  c/.  ii.  249.  ^  i.  281,  quoted  by  Raich,  175. 

O 


2IO  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL    PLAYS 

ing  that  the  utility  of  miracles  would  disappear  were 
they  of  common  occurrence,  and  that  their  purpose 
was  attained  when  once  the  Church  was  established, 
itself  a  standing  miracle.  But  St.  Augustine  de- 
clares that  his  words  as  to  the  discontinuance  of 
miracles  are  not  to  be  taken  as  if  they  were  no 
longer  worked ;  for  he  had  himself  testified  to  the 
blind  man  who  had  recovered  sight  in  the  presence 
of  the  bodies  of  the  Milanese  martyrs,  and  he  knew 
of  many  other  miracles  too  numerous  to  be  related.^ 
The  Archbishop's  words,  interpreted  by  Lafeus 
speech  on  the  wonderful  cure  of  the  king  in  "  All's 
Well  that  Ends  Well,"  and  the  detailed  account  of 
the  miracles  worked  by  St.  Edward  in  "  Macbeth,"  are 
evidently  to  be  taken  comparatively,  not  absolutely, 
and  bear  no  sceptical  sense.  That  the  poet  wished 
to  represent  the  Archbishop  as  a  conscientious  priest, 
not  an  intriguing  politician,  is  seen  also  from  Henry's 
speech  to  him.  The  king's  words  manifest  both 
reverence  for  the  prelate's  office  and  an  affectionate 
trust  in  a  loved  and  faithful  religious  counsellor. 
He  concludes : — 

"  And  we  will  hear,  note,  and  believe  in  heart, 
That  what  you  speak  is  in  your  conscience  washed 
As  pure  as  sin  with  baptism." — Henry  V.,  i.  2. 

The  Catholic  doctrine  of  the  justifying  effects  of 
the  sacrament,  ex  opere  operato,  is  here,  we  may  note, 
clearly  stated. 

1  Retract.,  i.  13 


THE    BLACK    ART  211 

The  three  Bishops  in  "  Richard  III."  occupy  sub- 
ordinate parts.  The  Archbishop  of  York  behaves 
with  becoming  dignity,  but  Cardinal  Bourchier 
shows  himself  weak  and  pliable  in  yielding  at  once 
the  rights  of  sanctuary,  by  delivering  the  little 
Duke  of  York  at  Buckingham's  demand ;  and  the 
Bishop  of  Ely  appears  an  obsequious  courtier. 
Both  these  prelates  are  of  a  very  inferior  stamp 
to  Carlisle  and  Archbishop  Scroop  and  to  the  priest, 
Rutland's  tutor  in  "  Hemy  VI.,"  who  is  ready  to 
imperil  his  life  on  his  ward's  behalf. 

In  the  treason  and  necromancy  of  the  Duchess 
of  Gloucester  three  priests  are  concerned.  Sir  John 
Hume,  her  chaplain ;  Thomas  Southwell,  a  canon  of 
St.  Stephen's,  Westminster ;  and  Roger  Bolingbroke, 
chaplain  to  the  Duke  of  Gloucester.  The  Duke 
of  Gloucester,  according  to  ^neas  Sylvius,  after- 
wards Pius  II.,  had  a  European  reputation  for 
magic,  and  had  probably  attached  Bolingbroke  to 
himself  on  account  of  his  astrological  fame.  The 
object  of  Dame  Eleanor's  conspiracy  was  doubtless 
to  place  her  husband  on  the  throne;  and  this  her 
accomplices  engaged  to  effect  by  procuring  Henry's 
death.  Their  mode  of  action  reveals  an  extraordi- 
nary combination  of  faith  and  superstition.  South- 
well said  Mass,  while  a  wax  image  of  the  king 
was  exposed  to  a  slow  fire.  As  the  wax  melted, 
the  health  of  the  king,  through  the  joint  influence 
of  Southwell's  Masses  and  Bolingbroke's  magic,  was 
supposed  to  give  way.     The  ceremony  was  appar- 


212  ENGLISH   HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

ently  adapted  from  the  Luciferarian  Masses  of  the 
previous  century,  which  are  said  to  have  been 
renewed  in  our  own  days.  A  graver  ecclesiastical 
scandal  could  not  well  be  imagined,  but  was  the 
superstition  favoured  or  countenanced  by  Church 
authorities  ?  On  the  contrary,  the  prisoners  were 
first  tried  before  the  Bishops'  Court,  composed  of 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  Cardinal  Beaufort, 
and  the  Bishop  of  London,  and  were  handed  over 
to  the  secular  power.  Southwell  died  in  the  Tower 
before  his  trial,  but  Bolingbroke  publicly  abjured 
his  heresy,  and  was  afterwards  executed.  Shake- 
speare only  gives  the  carrying  out  of  the  sentence 
on  Dame  Eleanor,  after  she  had  been  found  guilty 
by  the  Bishops  on  the  several  indictments  of  necro- 
mancy, witchcraft,  sorcery,  heresy,  and  treason. 
The  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries  witnessed 
an  extraordinary  outburst  of  the  Black  Art  in 
Europe.  The  Order  of  the  Templars  was  sup- 
pressed by  the  Council  of  Vienne,  in  1 3 1 1 ,  on 
charges  similar  to  those  advanced  against  Dame 
Eleanor.  The  practice  of  sorcery  was  condemned 
by  John  XXII.  in  two  Bulls,  in  131 7  and  1327, 
again,  in  1398,  by  Gerson  and  the  Sorbonne.  In 
the  fifteenth  century  and  later,  those  charged  with 
sorcery  were,  as  a  rule,  women.  They  were  be- 
lieved to  have  the  power  of  producing  storms  and 
pestilences,  changing  the  form  of  the  human  body, 
calling  up  spirits,  and  foretelling  future  events. 
The  shameful  condemnation  of  Joan  of  Arc,  143 1, 


THE    DUCHESS    OF   GLOUCESTER  213 

as  a  sorceress  and  impostor,  was  in  part  due  to 
the  readiness  to  believe  in  witchcraft;  and  Shake- 
speare, in  introducing  her  trial  and  Dame  Eleanor's 
in  "  Henry  VI.,"  produces  a  special  feature  of  the 
time.  It  is  noteworthy  that  the  English  case  of 
witchcraft  should  have  taken  place  in  the  house- 
hold of  the  freethinking  Duke  of  Gloucester,  a  fact 
showing  that  superstition  is  begottep  no  less  readily 
from  scepticism  than  from  faith.  Foxe,  in  his 
desire  to  swell  the  list  of  his  pseudo-martyrs,  de- 
scribes Dame  Eleanor  branded  by  the  papists  as 
a  heretic  for  her  love  and  desire  of  truth.^  In 
defending  himself  against  the  criticisms  of  Alan 
Cope  (Harpsfield),  while  declining  to  discuss  the 
facts  of  her  trial,  he  conjectures  that  she  suffered, 
among  other  reasons,  for  being  an  adherent  of 
Wycliff.  In  any  case,  Foxe's  advocacy  of  the 
Duchess  shows  that  he  considered  her  no  blind 
and  superstitious  papist,  nor  can  Shakespeare's  in- 
sertion of  her  trial  be  interpreted  as  implying  any 
censure  on  the  Catholic  faith. 

^  **  Acts  and  Monuments,"  iii.  709.     1837. 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE    SONNETS. 

In  considering  the  question  of  Shakespeare's  religion 
the  sonnets  are  of  special  importance.  Their  sub- 
ject-matter is  love.  His  views  on  this  point  present, 
in  our  opinion,  the  key  to  his  philosophy  of  life. 
The  sonnets  are  also  singular  in  this,  that  they 
contain  a  purely  personal  element.  His  "  Venus 
and  Adonis,"  as  well  as  his  "  Lucrece,"  though  often 
classed  with  the  sonnets,  are  not  in  fact  lyrical 
compositions,  but  dramatic  stories.  They  exhibit 
words  and  feelings  wholly  external  to  the  poet, 
except  so  far  as  they  were  necessarily  realised  at 
first  in  his  phantasy.  The  poet  speaks  throughout 
as  a  spectator,  not  as  an  actor.  In  his  dramas  he 
is  personal  only  in  the  sense  that  the  thoughts  and 
feelings  exhibited  by  his  characters  are  all  drawn 
ultimately  from  his  own  consciousness.  They  por- 
tray what  the  poet  would  be  were  he  some  one  else, 
not  what  he  is  himself.  Had  Shakespeare  been 
Othello  or  Hamlet  or  Falstaif  he  might  have  acted 
as  they  did  in  his  drama.  But  Shakespeare  was 
himself  and  not  another.  "I  am  that  I  am,"  he 
says.      In   the   sonnets,  however,  he  speaks  not  in 


NOT    AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  21  5 

character,  but  in  his  own  person,  and  thus  they 
furnish  the  most  direct  chie  to  his  inner  life. 

The  sonnets  contain  then,  as  we  think,  a  revela- 
tion of  the  poet's  self,  though  it  must  be  admitted 
that  the  revelation  is  partial,  fragmentary,  discon- 
nected, and  obscure,  and  furnishes  no  data  for  a 
personal  narrative.  Every  attempt  at  a  literal 
interpretation  of  the  sonnets  meets  mth.  insurmount- 
able difficulties.  The  poet  speaks  of  himself  as 
made  lame  by  fortune's  "  dearest  spite "  (Sonnet 
37),  and  of  his  "dead  body,"  "the  coward  conquest 
of  a  butcher's  knife  "  (Sonnet  74) ;  yet  there  are  no 
historical  grounds  for  believing  thau  he  was  either 
really  lame  or  had  actually  been  stabbed.  Again, 
he  speaks  of  journeys  and  pilgrimages  "  to  limits 
far  remote,"  "  to  the  shores,  furthest  shores " ;  yet 
there  is  no  sure  evidence  that  he  was  ever  out 
of  England. 

The  indications  of  time  are  equally  insoluble. 
In  Sonnet  2  he  fixes  the  age  of  forty  as  the  time 
when  the  stage  of  decay  has  been  reached.  In 
Sonnet  62  he  states  of  himself  that  he  is  "heated 
and  chopped  with  tanned  antiquity " ;  while  in 
Sonnet  73  he  declares  that  he  has  reached  "the 
autumn  and  twilight  of  life."  He  must  then,  if 
these  statements  about  himself  are  to  be  taken 
literally,  have  been  at  the  time  of  writing  his 
sonnets  at  least  forty  years  old.  That  he  was  not 
forty  years  old  at  the  time  of  writing  his  sonnets  is 
made  clear  by  his  statement  in  Sonnet   104,  that 


2l6  THE   SONNETS 

three  years  had  passed  since  he  first  became 
acquainted  with  the  friend  to  whom  they  are 
addressed.  Now  the  friend  to  whom  they  are 
addressed,  in  the  opinion  of  Drake,  Gervinus, 
Kreysig,  Mr.  G.  Massey,  and  others,  is  Henry 
Wriothesley,^  Earl  of  Southampton.  But  Shake- 
speare had  already  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
Earl  of  Southampton  at  least  as  early  as  1593,  for 
in  that  year  he  dedicated  to  him  his  "  Venus  and 
Adonis."  Shakespeare  then,  if  we  take  his  state- 
ments literally,  must  have  been  forty  years  old  in 
1596.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact  he  was  not  forty 
years  old  till  1604,  since  he  was  born  in  the  year 
1564. 

Even  if  it  could  be  proved  that  W.  H.  was  really 
not  Lord  Southampton,  it  could  still  be  shown  that 
Shakespeare  was  not  forty  years  of  age  when  he 
composed  the  sonnets,  seeing  that  Meres,  writing 
in  1598,  speaks  of  Shakespeare's  "sug'red  sonnets" 
"  among  his  private  friends."  Again,  the  last  line  of 
Sonnet  94,  "  Lilies  that  fester  smell  far  worse  than 
weeds,"  is  quoted^  in  the  play  of  "Edward  IIL," 

*  W.  H.  are  supposed  to  be  the  initials  reversed. 

2  The  speech  in  which  the  line  occurs  is  one  in  which  the  Earl 
of  Warwick  extols  his  daughter,  the  Countess  of  Salisbury,  for 
rejecting  the  shameful  proposal  of  the  King,  Edward  III.  The 
speech  consists  of  **  a  spacious  field  "of  *'  eleven  reasons  "  proving 
that  the  malice  of  sin  is  in  proportion  to  the  rank  or  power  or 
knowledge  of  the  sinner.  Each  reason  is  condensed  into  an 
aphorism,  and  the  form  of  the  whole  speech  is  like  one  of  Sancho 
Panza's  strings  of  Proverbs.  It  is  therefore  a  place  where  we 
should  least  look  for  originality,  and  where  an  author  would  think 


NUMEROUS   SONNETEERS  217 

which  was  published  in  1 5  96,  and  was  probably 
written  in  1595  or  1594.  The  sonnets,  then, 
were  composed  before  1596.  Clearly,  therefore, 
Shakespeare,  was  not  forty  years  of  age  at  the  time 
of  writing  the  sonnets,  and  his  statements  are 
not  to  be  taken  with  literal  exactness.  Another 
proof  that  the  sonnets  are  not  to  be  taken  in  their 
literal  exactness  is  found  in  the  fact  that  Sonnets 
72-86  declare  that  his  praises  of  his  friend  and 
patron  had  become  so  notorious  that  others  had 
emulated  him,  and  one  of  them  so  successfully  as 
to  supplant  him  in  his  patron's  favour —  a  statement 
whose  inaccuracy  appears  from  this,  that  critics 
have  utterly  failed  to  discover  any  such  rival.  The 
sonnets,  then,  though  a  lyrical  composition,  cannot 
be  accepted  as  an  autobiography. 

But  while  we  are  forced  to  admit  that  we  can- 
not expect  to  find  in  the  sonnets  accurate  auto- 
biographical data,  we  altogether  dissent  from  the 
contention  of  those  critics  who  maintain  that  the 
sonnets  were  written  by  Shakespeare  solely  to 
exhibit  his  versifying  skill.  Between  the  years 
I  591  and  1599  a  '^^^^  number  of  sonnets  appeared. 
Undoubtedly  many  of  these  sonnets  were  written 
for  no  better  purpose  than  that  of  displaying  their 

least  scorn  of  open  plagiarism.  For  these  reasons  it  seems  more 
probable  that  the  line  in  question  was  quoted  from  Shakespeare's 
Sonnets,  already  known  in  1594  or  1595  among  his  private  friends, 
than  that  it  was  afterwards  adopted  by  Shakespeare  from  the  play. 
Cf.  Simpson,  '*  Philosophy  of  Shakespeare's  Sonnets,"  76. 


2l8  THE   SONNETS 

author's  power  in  verbal  fence,  or  were  composed  in 
a  spirit  of  mere  rivalry.  This  we  freely  grant. 
But  at  the  same  time  we  insist  that  many  of  the 
sonnets  were  inspired  by  a  much  higher  motive. 
They  treated  of  serious  subjects  in  a  manner  suited 
to  the  dignity  of  their  theme.  No  less  than  500 
sonnets  were  composed  at  this  period  on  such  grave 
topics  as  philosophy  and  religion.-^  The  sonnets  of 
Shakespeare,  it  is  true,  treat  professedly  neither  of 
religion  nor  of  philosophy,  but  of  love.  Yet  this 
theme,  however  much  it  may  have  been  degraded 
by  the  treatment  of  other  sonneteers,  was  discussed 
from  a  pure  and  spiritual  standpoint  by  such 
sonneteers  as  Surrey,  Sidney,  and  Spenser.  The 
presumption  surely  ought  to  be  that  Shakespeare 
would  take  his  stand  with  such  writers  as  these 
rather  than  with  Marlowe,  Greene,  and  Donne.  But 
we  have  something  more  than  presumption.  A 
comparison  of  Shakespeare's  theory  on  love  with 
that  which  has  found  favour  with  the  great 
Christian  writers  of  every  age  will  show  the  iden- 
tity of  his  views  on  this  subject  with  those  of  the 
leaders  of  religious  thought. 

The  philosophy  of  love  as  taught  first  by  Plato, 
and  purified  and  completed  by  St.  Augustine, 
Boetius,  and  St.  Thomas,  is  a  definite,  compre- 
hensive, and  coherent  system.  In  that  philo- 
sophy the  object  of  love  is  the  good,  the  act  of 
love  is  the  tendency  or  the  movement  towards  its 

1  S.  Lee,  "  Life  of  Shakespeare,"  441. 


CHRISTIAN   DOCTRINE    OF   LOVE  219 

attainment,  and  in  its  secure  possession  love  is 
perfected,  qiiies  in  bono,  "rest  in  good,"  being  the 
essence  of  beatitude.  In  intellectual  natures  the 
good  is  apprehended  by  the  intellect  as  true,  and 
loved  by  the  will  as  good.  God,  being  infinitely 
intelligent,  necessarily  knows  His  Infinite  Perfec- 
tions in  the  Word,  and  from  the  mutual  con- 
templation of  the  Father  and  the  Word  proceeds 
the  Holy  Spirit,  their  mutual  love,  the  term  of 
union  in  the  Triune  God.  Thus  Dante  describes 
the  Divine  essence.  Luce  intellettual  pien  d'amor. 
From  God's  Infinite  love  of  Himself  proceeds  freely 
His  love  of  creatures,  each  of  which  is  called  into 
being  to  portray  some  special  likeness  of  the 
Creator's  Beauty,  their  graduated  perfection  being 
determined  by  their  degree  of  resemblance  to  the 
Divine  exemplar.  Every  kind  of  being  by  love, 
natural  or  supernatural,  acquires  its  perfection. 
Thus  the  connatural  attractiveness,  which  by  the 
law  of  gravity  binds  the  atoms  in  the  stone  and 
the  stone  in  its  place,  may  be  called  love.  The 
vital  principle  of  growth  and  increase  in  the  plants, 
the  action  of  the  sensitive  faculties  in  the  animal 
world  are  respectively  the  law  of  self-preservation 
for  each,  or  the  love  of  their  good.  Man,  as  a 
reasonable  being,  finds  his  good  in  the  love  and 
acquisition  of  truth,  and  in  the  possession  of  abso- 
lute truth  alone  is  his  perfection  attained. 

Love,  then,  is  the  first  beginning,  the  sustaining 
principle,  and  the  final  end  of  all  things.     All  this 


2  20  THE    SONNETS 

is  summed  up  in  Dante's  vision,  in  the  depth  of 
which  he 

*'  Saw  in  one  volume,  clasped  of  love,  whate'er 
The  universe  unfolds  ;  all  properties 
Of  substance  and  of  accident,  beheld 
Compounded,  yet  one  individual  light 
The  whole.     And  of  such  bond  methinks  I  saw 
The  universal  form  ;  for  that  whene'er 
I  do  but  speak  of  it  my  soul  dilates 
Beyond  her  proper  self." — Par.  xxiii.  yy. 

So  also  Boetius  had  long  since  said — 

"  Hanc  rerum  seriem  ligat 
Terras  et  pelagas  regens 
Et  coelo  imperitans  amor." 

— De  Consol.  Phil.^  xi.  8. 

Now  this  love  philosophy  descended  through 
Petrarch  and  others  to  the  Italian  Revivalists  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  and  became  a  prominent  subject 
in  their  literature.  From  Italy  it  passed  into  Eng- 
land, and  was  taken  up  by  Surrey  and  Spenser,  and 
in  the  Hymns  of  the  latter  poet  on  love  and  beauty 
we  find  the  theme  treated  on  the  hues  of  CathoUc 
theology  already  given.  Love,  then,  according  to 
Spenser,  first  produced  order  out  of  chaos,  fixed  all 
things  in  their  different  kingdoms,  tempered,  subor- 
dinated, and  harmonised  their  constituent  opposing 
forces,  and  quickened  living  things  with  the  desire 
and  power  of  increase.  Man,  having  an  immortal 
mind,  should  love  immortal  beauty,  and  seek  "  to 


SPENSER  S   HYMNS  221 

enlarge  his  progeny  not  for  lust's  sake  but  for 
eternity."  Here  comes  the  strife.  False  love  or 
lust  persuades  the  "earthly-minded  with  dunghill 
thoughts"  to  seek  only  the  gratification  of  their 
senses  in  the  enjoyment  of  corporeal  beauty.  But  the 
pure,  refined  mind,  by  help  of  Heaven's  grace,  expels 
all  sordid  baseness,  and  newly  fashions  the  sense 
image  into  a  higher  form,  modelled  on  its  divine 
exemplar,  "  its  God  and  King,  its  victor  and  its 
guide."  The  love  for  this  ideal  must  be  sole  and 
sovereign.  The  fear  of  its  loss  is  terrible  suffering, 
only  to  be  surpassed  by  the  joy  experienced  when 
the  loved  one  is  possessed. 

Such  are  the  leading  ideas  of  the  hymns  of  earthly 
love  and  beauty.  The  hymn  of  heavenly  love  tells 
of  the  Procession  of  the  Divine  Persons  and  of  crea- 
tures from  the  same  source,  "  the  blessed  well  of 
love."  The  three  great  acts  of  divine  love  for 
man  are  Creation,  Redemption,  and  the  Blessed 
Sacrament. 

"  Him  first  to  love  great  right  and  reason  is 
Who  first  to  us  our  life  and  being  gave, 
And  after,  when  we  farM  had  amiss, 
Us  wretches  from  the  second  death  did  save. 
And  last,  the  food  of  life  which  now  we  have, 
Even  He  Himself,  in  his  dear  sacrament, 
To  feed  our  hungry  souls  unto  us  lent." 

Such  love  calls  for  the  sacrifice  of  all  else  in  return. 

"  With  all  thy  heart,  with  all  thy  soul  and  mind 
Thou  must  Him  love,  and  His  behests  embrace. 


22  2  THE    SONNETS 

All  other  love8_,  with  which  the  world  doth  blind 
Weak  fancies,  and  stir  up  affections  base, 
Thou  must  renounce,  and  utterly  displace, 
And  give  thyself  unto  Him  full  and  free 
That  full  and  freely  gave  Himself  to  thee." 

In  the  Hymn  of  Heavenly  Beauty  we  are  taught  by 
ascending  scale  of  beauty  in  creation,  by  the  blind- 
ing brightness  of  the  sun,  to 

"  Look  at  last  up  to  that  Sovereign  light 
From  whose  pure  beams  all  perfect  beauty  springs ; 
That  kindleth  love  in  every  godly  spright. 
Even  the  love  of  God  ;  which  loathing  things 
Of  this  vile  world,  and  these  gay  seeming  things 
With  whose  sweet  pleasures  being  so  possest, 
Thy  straying  thoughts  henceforth  for  ever  rest." 

There  are  then,  according  to  Spenser,  two  kinds  of 
beauty,  the  corporeal  and  the  spiritual.  The  first  is 
the  object  of  earthly,  the  second  of  spiritual  love, 
and  the  work  of  the  pure  soul  of  true  love  is  to 
fashion  for  itself  and  in  itself  from  the  earthly  image 
that  spiritual  ideal  which  is  the  reflection  of  God 
Himself.  In  the  process  of  transformation  the  better 
self,  Gods  grace  and  God  Himself,  are  constantly 
addressed  in  the  same  terms.  This  identity  of  love 
with  the  object  is  found  in  St.  Paul's  "Vivo  ego 
jam  non  ego,  sed  Christus  vivit  in  me,"  and  is  a 
leading  thought  with  St.  Augustine,  "Anima  plus 
ubi  amat  quam  ubi  vivit." 

And  now  let  us  turn  to  the  sonnets  and  see  how 
they  can  be  interpreted  on  the  lines  of  the  philo- 
sophy already    sketched.      The  first  series,   1-126, 


THEME    OF   THE    SONNETS  223 

is  addressed  to  a  youth  idealised,  described  now 
as  a  fair  boy,  now  as  an  angel,  the  type  of  pure 
love,  leadiDg  the  poet  to  higher  things.  The 
second  series,  127-156,  is  addressed  to  a  woman, 
the  type  of  evil  passion,  whose  only  purpose  is  to 
degrade  and  destroy  the  soul.  The  pure  love  and 
the  false  the  poet  experiences  in  his  own  heart. 

'*  Two  loves  I  have,  of  comfort  and  despair, 
Which,  like  two  spirits,  do  suggest  me  still ; 
The  better  angel  is  a  man  right  fair. 
The  worser  spirit,  a  woman  coloured  ill." 

As  love  follows  knowledge,  the  loveable  object, 
whether  good  or  evil,  is  presented  to  the  soul 
through  one  of  the  three  channels  of  human  infor- 
mation. These  are  the  outward  senses,  the  inward 
senses  of  the  imagination  and  memory,  and  the 
mind  itself.  Each  of  these,  when  actuated  by  the 
object,  proposes  to  the  will  a  corresponding  good. 
The  object  of  the  outward  senses  is  corporeal  beauty. 
The  object  of  the  inward  senses  is  the  imaginative 
beauty  created  by  the  phantasies  and  memory. 
The  object  of  the  intellect  is  the  ideal  beauty,  the 
perfect  expression  of  truth,  and  too  spiritual  and 
intellectual  to  be  set  forth  in  any  phantasm  or  out- 
ward form.  As  St.  Augustine  says,  "  Vera  pulchritudo 
Custitia  est."  This  triple  division  is,  then,  found  in 
the  sonnets. 

Sonnets  1-45  treat  of  the  imaginative  love,  which 
is    again   subdivided   by  its    object   as    represented 


224  THE    SONNETS 

corporeally,  by  the  memory  or  phantasy,  or  as  an 
intellectual  idea.  In  the  first  stage,  goodness  or 
beauty  as  seen  through  the  outward  senses  forms 
the  theme  of  twenty  sonnets,  which  we  proceed  to 
summarise,  the  bracketed  numbers  indicating  the 
sonnets  referred  to. 

The  opening  lines  declare  that  beauty  or  good- 
ness should  be  perpetual,  for  the  thought  of  coming 
decay  and  separation  prevents  any  true  enjoyment 
of  the  beloved  object  (i).  Therefore  he  desires  off- 
spring for  his  friend  (2).  The  child  is  the  parent's 
reflection,  and  represents  him  in  his  prime.  His 
beloved  should  not  then  be  barren,  but  inspire  the 
poet's  soul  with  fitting  conceptions  of  his  worth,  that 
he  may  live  on  in  his  rhyme  (3,  4).  As  the  rose, 
though  dead,  lives  on  in  the  fragrant  water  distilled 
from  its  leaves,  so  will  his  beloved  in  the  verses  of 
the  poet.  This  simile  is  borrowed  from  Sidney  s  image 
of  the  rosewater  in  crystal-glass  (5).  The  necessity 
of  the  spiritual  marriage  is  reiterated  and  illustrated 
through  the  next  four  sonnets.  "  Summer  defaced 
by  winter's  ragged  hand,"  the  sun's  meridian  glory 
adored  with  bowed  head,  but  forgotten  when  it  sets, 
typify  the  oblivion,  the  necessary  heritage  of  a  child- 
less life  (6,  7).  Then  follows  an  exquisite  image 
from  an  acoustic  phenomenon  in  music,  recalling 
again  the  harmony  found  in  every  creature  true  to 
itself.  As  the  two  notes  of  a  perfect  triad,  struck  in 
complete  accord,  produce  spontaneously  a  third,  so 
should  the  poet's  fruitful  union  with  his  beloved. 


LOVE   OF   THE    SENSES  225 

'*  Mark  how  one  string,  sweet  husband  to  another, 
Strikes  each  on  each  by  mutual  ordering, 
Resembling  sire,  and  child,  and  happy  mother, 
Who,  all  in  one,  one  pleasing  note  do  sing  ; 
Whose  speechless  song  being  many,  seeming  one, 
Say  this  to  thee,  '  Thou  single  wilt  prove  none '  "  (8). 


From  this  point  the  arguments  become 
rhetorical,  and  appeal  more  directly  to  the  feelings. 
Do  you  keep  single  for  fear  of  wetting  a  widow's 
^y^  ^  (9)'  You  cannot  love  others  if  you  thus  slay 
yourself  by  singleness ;  and  here  the  poet  urges  his 
suit  by  a  personal  appeal. 

"  Make  thee  another  self  for  love  of  me, 
That  beauty  still  may  live  in  thine  or  thee  "  (10). 

In  conceptive  power  live  wisdom,  beauty,  increase ; 
without  it,  time  would  cease,  and  the  world  perish 
in  an  age  (11).  The  visible  decay  of  all  things 
warns  us  to  prepare  for  death  (12),  and  the  only 
preparation  is  to  leave  issue  to  posterity  (13).  The 
poet  speaks,  not  as  an  augur  or  soothsayer  from 
weather  signs,  but  from  the  principles  of  truth  and 
beauty  seen  in  the  "  constant  stars,"  the  unchanging 
light  of  his  beloved's  eyes  (14).  The  poet's  verses, 
inspired  by  this  light,  will  immortalise  his  love, 
though  all  other  things,  "  cheered  and  checked  by 
the  self-same  sky,"  from  memory  pass  (15).  If, 
however,  his  friend  would  draw  himself  by  his  own 
sweet  skill,  such  a  work  would  be  more  blessed  than 
the  poet's  barren  rhyme  (16).  Without  such  an 
authentic    declaration    of    the    truth    none    would 

p 


2  26  THE    SONNETS 

believe  in  that  beauty  which  is  beyond  compare 
(17).  But  with  this  guarantee  his  love  would  live 
through  all  time  in  his  friend's  verse  and  in  his 
own.  Yet  his  unaided  song  shall  sing  his  love's 
praises,  for  Truth's  eternal  summer  never  fades  (18). 

"  Do  thy  worst,  old  Time,  despite  thy  wrong, 
My  love  shall  in  my  verse  be  ever  young  "  (19). 

He  then  commences  his  praises  of  his  love.  His 
beloved's  beauty  is  the  Creator's  painting,  not  false 
adornment  of  art.  Yet  its  outward  semblance 
others  may  extol  with  what  similes  they  will.  Its 
interior  loveliness  is  the  object  of  the  poet's  desire 
(20,  21),  and  reclothed  therein  his  youth  is  ever 
renewed. 

"  For  all  the  beauty  that  doth  cover  thee 
Is  but  the  seemly  raiment  of  my  heart, 
Which  in  thy  breast  doth  live,  as  thine  in  me. 
How  can  I  then  be  elder  than  thou  art  ?"  (22). 

Notwithstanding  his  previous  declaration  to  sing 
his  friend's  praises  at  any  cost,  his  love  renders 
him  tongue-tied,  like  an  actor  who,  through  fear, 
forgets  his  part.  His  beloved  then  must  read  in 
his  heart  "  what  love  hath  writ."  He  holds  there  a 
treasure.  Earth's  heroes  and  royal  favourites  live 
in  to-day's  smile  and  expire  in  the  morrow's  frown. 
His  love  and  joy  are  eternal. 

"  Then  happy  I  that  love  and  am  beloved. 
Where  I  may  not  remove,  nor  be  removed  "  (25). 

With  Sonnet  26  we  enter  the  second  degree  in 


THE    THREE    STAGES  2  27 

the  scale  of  imaginative  love,  the  phantastic  re- 
presentation of  the  beloved  object.  Again  he  asks 
his  friend  to  inspire  his  muse,  confessing,  as  in 
Sonnet  33,  his  own  inability  to  do  so.  As  the 
internal  senses  are  now  alone  operative  he  deplores 
the  bodily  absence  of  his  beloved,  though  the 
memory  of  the  ideal  is  with  him  day  and  night 
(27),  is  brighter  than  the  sun,  and  enlightens  the 
night. 

"  How  many  a  holy  and  obsequious  tear 
Hath  dear  religious  love  stol'n  from  mine  eye, 
As  interest  of  the  dead,  which  now  appear 
But  things  removed  that  hidden  lie  in  thee  "  (31). 

As  he  loves  his  friend  truly,  he  can  count  on  his 
love  in  return,  even  though  his  "rude  lines"  be 
outstripped  by  every  pen  (32).  Again,  though  he 
has  to  bear  what  seems  inconstancy,  if  not  disgrace, 
even  then  the  sorrow  of  pure  love,  the  tears  of  true 
contrition,  procure  their  own  pardon  (34).  To  his 
own  faults  must  be  attributed  the  loss  of  his  love ; 
of  himself  he  can  do  nothing,  but  if  he  can  identify 
himself  with  his  ideal,  his  will  be  ideal  beauty, 
wealth,  and  wit  (37). 

The  third  stage  of  imaginative  love  begins  at 
Sonnet  38  with  another  prayer  for  inspiration.  He 
has  again  to  deplore  the  trials  of  separation,  for 
he  is  now  deprived  even  of  the  portrait  drawn  by 
memory  and  imagination  of  his  love  (39).  Yet 
whatever  his  friend  does,  whatever  injury  he  may 


2  28  THE    SONNETS 

inflict,  the  poet's  heart  will  be  faithful.  He  wor- 
ships his  beloved's  will  alone,  and  is  one  with  it ; 
and  as  that  will  is  perfect,  so  will  he  gain  by  his 
very  love  (41,  42).  His  beloved  is  indeed  seen  best 
in  the  dark,  when  all  other  objects  and  earthly  aims 
are  excluded  (43),  and  but  for  the  dull  substance  of 
his  flesh  he  would  mount  in  thought  and  desire 
to  the  presence  of  his  beloved  (44).  Were  it  not 
for  some  tender  embassies  assuring  him  from  time 
to  time  of  his  ideal's  reality  and  life  he  would  sink 
down  and  die  (45). 

The  change  to  the  ideal  love  is  indicated  in 
Sonnet  46.  The  object  of  this  love  being  neither 
outward  beauty  nor  its  pictured  resemblance,  but 
an  ideal  purely  interior  and  intellectual,  self-know- 
ledge is  necessary.  Magister  intus  docet.  The  Master 
teaches  within,  and  we  must  know  ourselves  and 
what  speaks  there,  and  distinguish  our  true  motives 
and  aims,  if  we  are  to  detect  His  voice.  The  eye 
and  heart,  the  flesh  and  the  spirit,  the  higher  and 
lower  impulses  are  alike  active  and  opposed  in 
mortal  war.  Each  claims  possession  of  the  soul. 
The  poet  must  then  look  into  the  inner  depths  of 
his  heart,  "  a  closet  never  pierced  save  by  crystal 
eyes,"  and  there  decide  by  the  higher  principles  of 
reason,  a  jury  impanelled  by  nature  for  that  purpose, 
the  true  province  and  function  of  sense  and  reason 
in  the  representation  of  his  beloved  (46). 

He  finds  then  that  sense  and  reason  mutually  co- 
operate to  teach  us  the  truth.     The  outward  object 


SPIRIT   AND   FLESH  229 

through  the  sense  supplies  the  image  whence  the 
heart  obtains  its  ideal ;  and  the  phantasm  of  the 
ideal  again  lives  in  the  memory  to  refresh  the  soul 
in  the  absence  of  its  beloved  (47).  This  he  strove 
to  effect.  But  in  spite  of  all  his  care  to  keep  his 
ideal  uncorrupted  "  in  sure  wards  of  trust,"  locked 
in  his  inner  soul,  it  escaped  and  became  "  a  prey 
of  every  vulgar  thief " ;  the  distractions  of  outward 
things  (48).  His  own  un worthiness  then  alone 
accounts  for  his  beloved's  absence  (49).  His  eftbrts 
to  rise  to  higher  things  are  impeded  by  the  flesh, 
"  the  beast  that  bears  me,"  "  which  plods  dully  on," 
and  only  answers  with  a  groan  to  the  bloody  spur 
(50).  No  carnal  strength  or  power  can  help  him 
in  his  fiery  race :  and  he  dismisses  his  body  with 
contempt,  and  gives  "  his  jade  "  leave  to  go,  for  he 
would  mount  with  a  winged  speed,  to  which  the 
mind  itself  is  slow  (51).  In  his  heart's  probation 
only  at  times  can  he  realise  the  presence  of  his 
beloved.  The  visits  of  his  beloved  are  rare  and 
solemn  as  annual  feasts  or  "  costly  jewels,"  "  captains 
in  the  carcanet,"  or  "state  robes  seldom  worn"  (52). 
The  best  of  earthly  things,  the  most  perfect  type  of 
man  or  woman,  Adonis  or  Helen,  are  in  their  beauty 
but  counterfeit  imitations  of  the  "One  Fair."  Spring- 
tide in  its  promise,  harvest  in  its  abundance,  are  but 
types  of  the  beauty  and  bounty  of  his  ideal,  whose 
unchanging  truth  or  "  constant  heart "  no  earthly 
image  bears  (53).  This  invisible  truth  is  the  essence 
of  all  real  perfection,  and  this  shall  live  on  in  his 


2  30  THE   SONNETS 

verse,    though    outward    forms    vanish    from    sight 

(54,  55). 

Sonnet  56  gives  expression  to  another  state  of 
soul ;  the  lover  pines  for  sensible  consolation.  The 
spirit  is  chilled  by  the  "  perpetual  dulness "  of  his 
beloved's  absence,  whose  coming  would  be  welcome 
as  summer  after  winter.  But  he  has  no  right  to 
be  jealous  or  impatient;  he  is  his  beloved's  slave, 
and  can  think  no  ill  whate'er  his  master  does  (57). 
He  must  then  wait,  though  waiting  be  hell  (58). 
He  will  renew  his  courage  by  recalhng  how  antique 
books  and  past  sages  have  described  his  ideal 
(59).  Its  image,  then,  founded  on  truth,  not  feeling, 
will  have  a  new  and  lasting  birth  (60).  But  may 
not  the  images  thus  awakened  in  his  soul  be 
merely  his  own  creation  ?  Have  they  an  objective 
reality  ?  His  beloved  cannot  care  to  inspire  them 
(61);  yet  he  must  have  done  so,  for  the  poet  sees 
himself  to  be  so  blackened  and  corrupt,  "  heated 
and  chopped,"  by  his  own  evil  past,  he  could  never 
form  of  himself  any  worthy  conception  of  truth 
or  beauty  (62).  His  very  deformity  shall  then 
be  a  foil  and  frame  for  his  ideal's  praise,  as  its 
beauty  is  seen  in  the  poet's  black  lines,  and  shall 
live  for  all  time;  an  image  recalling  the  nigra  sed 
formosa  of  the  Canticles. 

The  poet,  having  now  learnt  to  know  himself, 
is  enabled  to  pierce  the  mask  of  other  things  and 
to  see  them  as  they  really  are,  and  he  expresses 
in  Sonnet  66  his  soul's  disgust  at  the  corruption 


EVILS   OF   HIS   TIMES  23  I 

of  his  age.  Faith  is  forsworn,  Virtue  striirapeted, 
Honour  misplaced,  the  highest  perfection  disgraced, 
Art  tongue-tied  by  authority,  evil  everywhere  trium- 
phant, "  captive  good  attending  captain  ill." 

"  Tired  with  all  these,  from  these  I  would  be  gone, 
Save  that,  to  die,  I  leave  my  love  alone." 

If  he  dies  of  his  own  will,  he  neglects  his  duty  and 
abandons  the  cause  of  truth  (66). 

But  why  should  his  love  live  on  in  an  age  of 
impiety  and  falsehood  ?  The  world,  indeed,  admits 
its  outward  beauty,  but  slanders  its  thoughts  and 
motives;  yet,  since  the  world  has  ever  slandered 
truth,  its  enmity  proves  his  love  immaculate,  as  in 
fact  it  is  (68,  69,  70). 

The  poet  now  turns  his  thoughts  to  his  own 
death  and  its  effects  on  the  fame  of  his  beloved. 
His  life  has  given  much  scandal.  His  soul  is  like 
a  ruined  choir  or  "  twilight,"  showing  traces  of  light 
and  beauty  now  gone.  Let  not  his  friend  attempt 
to  defend  the  poet's  good  name.  "His  evil  is  his 
own,  his  better  part  his  love's " ;  therein  was  its 
consecration  (73,  74).  The  thought  of  union  with 
his  love  is  his  only  joy  on  earth,  its  praise  his  sole 
theme  (75,  ^6).  Again  he  asks  that  his  muse  be 
fresh  inspired,  his  brain  is  as  a  note-book  of  blank 
leaves  (yy). 

The  next  nine  sonnets  express  the  poet's  jealous 
indignation  at  the  false  praise  and  "  strained  touches 
of  rhetoric  "  and  "  gross  painting  "  bestowed  on  his 


232  THE    SONNETS 

subject  by  rival  poets.  His  object  is  truth.  Faith 
in  his  ideal  will  compensate  for  lack  of  education 
or  skill.  He  has  not  to  ransack  the  universe  for 
comparisons,  but  only  to  say  simply  what  he  sees — 
none  can  say  more, 

"  Than  this  rich  praise,  that  you  alone  are  you." 

Such  creation  is  the  highest  art ;  its  subject  thereby 
lives  individualised  and  unique  (78-86). 

In  the  next  nine  sonnets  the  rivals  seem  to 
prevail,  which  the  poet  explains  by  the  same  reason 
as  before — his  own  un worthiness.  But  while  in 
Sonnet  49  he  had  admitted  his  own  inferiority  in 
comparison  with  his  ideal,  he  does  so  now  in  com- 
parison with  his  rivals.  For  the  sake  of  his  beloved 
he  will  consent  to  be  effaced,  and  confess  whatever 
faults  may  be  laid  to  his  charge.  Like  Ophelia 
in  "  Hamlet,"  he  owns  beforehand — 

"  Thou  canst  not,  love,  disgrace  me  half  so  ill, 
As  ril  myself  disgrace  "  (89). 

But  he  begs  that  his  dismissal,  if  determined  on, 
may  be  at  once,  when  all  the  world  is  against 
him,  and  not  come  as  an  after-blow  to  destroy  his 
only  hope.  Whatever  his  fate,  his  love  is  always 
"  the  only  fair."  For  a  moment  he  seems  to  doubt 
— what  if  his  love  were  really  false !  Corruptio 
optimi  pessima — the  best,  corrupted,  is  the  worst. 

"  For  sweetest  things  turn  sourest  by  their  deeds, 
Lilies  that  fester  smell  far  worse  than  weeds"  (94). 


HIS    RIVALS  233 

The  second  stage  of  ideal  love  has  the  same  con- 
clusion as  that  which  terminates  (36)  the  second 
stage  of  imaginative  love.  For  the  same  situations 
recur,  but  ever  in  a  higher  significance. 

In  the  third  stage  of  ideal  love,  introduced  in 
Sonnet  97,  all  previous  errors  or  adverse  judgments 
are  rectified  and  the  poet's  scattered  premises  draw 
to  one  conclusion.  Before  the  beauty  of  his  spiritual 
ideal,  fair  nature  pales.  "  Proud -pied  April,  dressed 
in  all  his  trim,"  renewing  youth  in  all  things ; 
summer's  story  told  by  lays  of  birds  and  flowers 
varying  in  scent  and  hue,  all  seemed  winter  com- 
pared to  his  beloved  (98,  99).  Then,  after  rebuking 
his  muse  for  her  silence  (100,  loi),  he  excuses 
it,  because  his  theme  is  above  its  power.  His 
verse  would  only  mar  what  it  cannot  mend,  and  his 
love  would  be  degraded  by  public  praise  (102,  103). 
In  Sonnet  104  commences  his  solenm  and  final 
act  of  homage.  He  declares  his  love  endowed 
with  perpetual  youth.  His  ideal  has  passed  through 
three  seasons — three  being  the  image  of  complete- 
ness or  eternity — and  unites  in  itself  the  three 
great  elements  of  love,  beauty,  goodness,  truth. 
All  the  praise  of  beauty,  chronicled  in  the  past, 
but  prophesy  his  "  only  fair."  Yet  neither  prophecy 
of  the  past  nor  even  his  own  reverential  fear  can 
set  bounds  to  his  love  (105,  106).  Day  by  day, 
then,  he  will  repeat  the  "  paternoster  "  of  his  love, 
which  loses  not,  but  grows  in  time  (107,  108). 
After  this  act  of  homage  begins  his  own  Confiteor. 


2  34  THE   SONNETS 

In  words  borrowed  almost  literally  from  the  Churcli's 
commendation  of  the  soul,  he  declares  that  though 
through  nature's  frailty  he  has  erred,  he  was  never 
really  false  at  heart.  If  he  wandered,  he  returned 
again  to  the  breast,  his  home  of  love,  and  was 
there  cleansed  anew.  All  his  past  wildness,  his 
actor's  life,  his  wounded  conscience  "  goring  his  own 
thoughts,"  his  apparent  estrangement  from  truth, 
have  all  proved  to  him  more  fully  what  was  the 
heaven  he  had  lost. 

For  the  scandal  he  has  caused,  due  much  to  his 
needy  state  and  deteriorating  surroundings,  he  begs 
pardon  and  will  deem  no  penance  harsh.  With  his 
love's  approval  he  cares  not  who  condemns.  With 
sense  and  mind  now  purified,  he  can  see  all  things 
in  the  light  of  the  ideal  and  find  goodness  every- 
where, save  in  his  own  deformity  (i  09-1 14).  He 
retracts  all  previous  expressions  of  uncertainty,  "  the 
marriage  of  true  minds  admits  of  no  impediments." 
His  soul  now  steers  straight  for  the  star.  "  Strange 
love  of  other  days  but  makes  the  true  love  stronger." 
He  has  drunk  of  siren  tears,  of  alembics  foul  as 
hell,  but  omnia  cooperantur  in  bomom — "  better  is 
by  evil  still  made  better."  He  sees  the  justice  of 
past  chastisements  inflicted  by  his  beloved,  though 
he  still  repudiates  the  slanders  of  evil  tongues. 
His  mind  is  no  longer  a  blank  leaf  (77),  but  a 
lasting  record  of  gifts  received.  Subject  no  more 
to  things  of  time,  nor  dependent  like  a  heretic  on 
the  favour  or  frown  of  the  passing  hour,  he  stands 


FINAL   OBLATION  235 

alone,  unchanging  himself,  having  fixed  his  heart  on 
what  is  unchangeable  and  eternal  (124).  One  act 
alone  can  adequately  express  his  love  and  worship 
— the  sacrifice  of  all  he  is  and  all  he  has  to  its 
true  object ;  a  poor  offering,  indeed,  but  voluntary 
and  complete. 

"  No,  let  me  be  obsequious  in  thy  heart, 
And  take  thou  my  oblation,  poor  but  free. 
Which  is  not  mixed  with  seconds,  knows  no  art 
But  mutual  render,  only  me  for  thee"  (125). 

As  the  Paternoster  was  chosen  to  express  his 
former  petition  (108),  so  here  the  language  of  a  yet 
more  solemn  office  is  used.  The  outward  sign  of 
the  Eucharistic  oblation  is  but  wastel  bread,  the 
inward  effect  the  union  of  the  creature  with  his 
God — of  the  human  love  with  the  one  ideal  and 
perfect  exemplar.  Then,  as  if  remembering  that  he 
had  employed  the  words  of  a  proscribed  ritual,  he 
concludes — 

"  Hence,  thou  suborned  informer  !  a  true  soul, 
When  most  impeached,  stands  least  in  thy  control." 

Sonnet  126  is  merely  an  epilogue  or  appendix  to 
the  series  we  have  considered.  That  series  is  com- 
plete in  its  unity,  and  exhibits  the  ascent  of  the 
soul  by  purifying  love  through  the  phases  recog- 
nised both  by  mystical  writers  and  sonneteers  con- 
temporary with  Shakespeare.  The  leading  idea  is 
often  hard  to  trace,  hidden  as  it  is  under  a  wealth 
of  imagery;    but,   when  discovered,  is   ever  found 


236  THE   SONNETS 

advancing  in  its   appointed  grades,  with   precision 
and  certainty,  to  its  only  legitimate  conclusion. 

In  his  second  series  of  sonnets,  the  poet  traces 
the  descent  of  the  soul  in  the  "love  of  despair." 
Its  object,  instead  of  an  angelic  youth,  aliquid  jam 
non  carnis  in  came,  is  a  gipsy-like  woman,  with 
black  eyes  and  hair  and  complexion  "  coloured  ill." 
He  sees  in  her  "beauty  profaned,"  and,  like  Dante 
and  the  siren,  is  at  first  disgusted  with  the  sight. 
But  like  Dante  again,  he  lingers  in  the  presence 
of  the  temptress.  Sense  attractions  and  his  lower 
impulses  stifle  reason  and  conscience.  No  angel 
appears  to  save  him  as  with  his  Tuscan  prototype, 
and  he  surrenders  himself  to  the  painted  charms. 
The  delusion  and  disorder  of  the  soul,  a  prey  to 
temptation,  the  madness  consequent  on  "  the  swal- 
lowed bait,"  and  the  repugnance  and  loathing  re- 
sulting therefrom,  when  the  heat  of  passion  is 
passed,  the  close  connection  of  sin  with  sin,  the 
parentage  of  crime  from  crime — all  these  are  then 
described  in  language  alike  psychologically  and  theo- 
logically accurate.  No  less  profoundly  true  are  the 
concluding  lines,  expressing  the  extraordinary  power 
of  temptation,  even  where  experience  has  taught  the 
misery  of  a  fall. 

"  All  this  the  world  well  knows  ;  yet  none  knows  well 
To  shun  the  heaven  that  leads  men  to  this  hell"  (129). 

These  last  lines  explain  how  it  is,  that  though  he 
knows  the  real  deformity  of   the  temptress,  he  is 


THE   TYRANNY    OF   SIN  237 

still  held  captive  by  her.  He  groans  under  her 
tyranny,  as  St.  Augustine  under  the  iron  chain  that 
held  him  bound  {Conf.  viii.  i  o),  but  strives  in  vain  for 
freedom.  Absent  from  the  accursed  object,  he  has 
a  lucid  interval,  and  realises  the  extent  of  his 
delusion ;  but  accounts  for  it  by  supposing  that  she 
is  really  fair  without  and  only  foul  within  (131),  or 
that  her  pretended  sympathy  has  won  his  heart 
(132).  Nor  has  he  only  to  deplore  a  moral  fall; 
the  image  of  purity,  the  type  of  his  true  love,  is 
now  effaced  from  his  soul.  This  concludes  the 
imaginative  stage  of  sensual  love,  the  inability  to 
recall  or  picture  the  remembrance  of  what  is 
good. 

The  ideal  stage  opens  with  the  soul  wholly 
materialised ;  and  thus  enslaved,  the  poet  abandons 
himself  and  his  friend  to  his  mistress's  yoke,  under 
the  symbol  of  the  three  Wills.  Himself,  W.  S.,  his 
friend,  W.  H.,  are  handed  over  to  the  Will  and 
dominion  of  evil.  The  very  fact  of  his  previous 
high  ideal  and  former  purity  makes  him  a  valuable 
conquest  in  her  eyes  (136);  while  on  his  side  he  is 
so  completely  blinded  by  her  "  over-partial  looks," 
that  he  regards  as  exclusively  his  own  what  is  in 
truth  "the  wide  world's  common  place"  (137). 
Having  thus  attempted  to  justify  false  love  by 
idealising  it,  he  still  further  seeks  excuses  for  his 
passion  by  painting  its  vices  as  virtues.  In  this 
his  mistress  joins,  and  thus  the  partners  in  evil 
flatter    each    other    with    falsehoods,    and    increase 


238  THE   SONNETS 

their   mutual    blindness.       She    calls    his    old    age 
youth,  he,  her  falsehood  truth. 

"  Therefore  I  lie  with  her,  and  she  with  me, 
And  in  our  faults  by  lies  we  flattered  be"  (138). 

Nothing  breaks  the  chain  of  his  captivity.  She 
is  false  and  cruel  to  him  to  his  face,  and  he  knows 
it;  yet  she  is  able  by  her  sensual  dominion  to 
keep  him  in  slavery  (139).  She  had  better  feign 
a  little  kindness,  and  make  at  least  some  profession 
of  the  love  which  she  is  incapable  of  feeling,  or  he 
may  grow  reckless,  and  speak  out  (140).  He  does 
so.  Her  face  is  hideous,  her  voice  discordant,  her 
touch  freezes,  her  presence  repels.  She  is  no  longer 
attractive  but  loathsome;  yet  having  dethroned 
reason,  and  jrielded  to  passion,  he  must  be  still 
"  her  venal  wretch."  His  iniquity  is  indeed  his 
torment;  perhaps  his  bitter  experience  may  be  of 
future  profit. 

"  Only  my  plague  thus  far  I  count  my  gain 
That  she  that  makes  me  sin  awards  me  pain"  (141). 

In  their  mutual  and  utter  degradation  they  cannot 
reproach  each  other.  Virtue  and  vice  have  changed 
places ;  love  and  hate  have  lost  their  true  meaning. 
All  things  are  perverted  and  confused.  Their  so- 
called  honour  is  rooted  in  shame  and  treachery. 
Yet  again  he  accuses  her ;  false,  pitiless,  and  heart- 
less to  him,  if  she  ever  want  pity,  may  she  be  paid 
in  her  own  coin,  and  seek  it  in  vain. 


SPABKS   OF   GOODNESS  239 

"  If  thou  dost  seek  to  liave  what  thou  dost  hide, 
By  self  example  may'st  thou  be  denied"  (142). 

In  her  insatiable  selfishness,  fickleness,  and  vanity, 
she  forgets  the  slave  at  her  side,  to  pursue  any  one 
she  thinks  indifferent  to  her  charms;  just  as  a 
housewife  drops  her  crying  child  to  capture  a  stray 
chick.  The  conquest  made,  she  returns  to  her  help- 
less victim,  plays  the  mother's  part  again,  kisses  him 
and  is  kind  (143).  All  this  he  sees,  for  the  good 
angel  still  wrestles  with  the  devil  in  his  soul,  yet  its 
accents  are  scarcely  distinguishable  to  his  seared 
conscience.  He  will  not  know  what  he  truly  is,  till 
he  finds  himself  a  reprobate  (144),  She  alternately 
tortures  and  coaxes,  drives  him  away  and  calls  him 
back;  and  he  comes,  for,  fallen  as  he  is,  he  lives 
only  in  her  (145).  In  Sonnet  146  he  apostrophises 
his  soul,  much  after  the  language  of  St.  Paul : 
"  Infelix  homo,  quis  me  liberabit  a  corpore  mortis." 
All  the  bodily  indulgence,  luxury,  and  sensual  de- 
light, with  which  his  mistress  pampers  him,  is,  after 
all,  only  feeding  on  death  (146),  for  "in  a  sort 
lechery  eats  itself  "  ("  Troilus  and  Cressida,"  v.  4),  yet 
his  passion  is  as  fever,  longing  for  that  which  nurses 
the  disease.  He  is  past  cure  and  past  care,  he  is 
mad,  frantic  mad,  and  he  knows  it. 

"  For  I  have  sworn  thee  fair,  and  thought  thee  bright 
Who  art  as  black  as  hell,  as  dark  as  night"  (147). 

Still  he  remains  wilfully  and  voluntarily  blind  to 
his  own  foulness  and  to  hers  (148),  and  yields  a 


240  THE   SONNETS 

complete  and  fawning  submission  to  her  every 
caprice.  His  self-respect  is  dead.  The  more  he 
ought  to  hate,  the  more  he  loves  her,  yet  wins  her 
not.  He  has  sold  his  conscience  and  abjured  truth 
and  reason  for  her  sake.  They  are  both  perjured, 
but  he  the  most,  for  he  has  sinned  against  light. 
He  has  worshipped  an  idol,  and  forsaken  the  only 
good. 

"  For  I  have  sworn  thee  fair,  more  perjured  I 
To  swear  against  the  truth  so  foul  a  lie"  (152). 

Thus  his  downward  steps  had  led  him  to  the 
Inferno,  and  leave  him  there.  Sonnets  153,  154, 
being  probably  only  an  appendix,  as  was  126  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  first  series.  A  careful  inspection 
shows  that  both  series  proceed  upward  and  downward 
by  analogous  steps  to  their  respective  term;  and 
that  the  whole  collection  exhibits  the  three  great 
divisions  of  love  as  stimulated  by  the  presentation  of 
good  through  the  senses,  imagination  and  reason. 

Such  then,  summarised,  is  Mr.  Simpson's  inter- 
pretation of  the  sonnets.  We  fully  admit  that  only 
after  repeated  readings  can  the  allegory  be  discovered, 
and  that  they  must  be  studied  in  the  light  of  that 
philosophy  which  gave  them  birth.  That  philosophy 
forms  the  basis  alike  of  the  dramas  as  of  the 
sonnets,  and  read  in  conjunction  they  will  be  found 
to  repeat  the  same  teaching  and  to  illustrate  the 
same  common  principles.  The  ideal  of  true  love  is 
presented  in  Isabella  in  "  Measure  for  Measure  "  on 
the  same  lines  as  in  the  portraiture  of  the  better 


AGREEMENT   OF   SONNETS    AND   PLAYS       24 1 

angel  of  the  sonnets.  Cleopatra  or  Cressida  are 
counterparts  of  "the  woman  coloured  ill."  The 
alliance  of  sin  with  sin,  of  impurity  and  murder 
(129),  is  repeated  in  Pericles. 

"  One  sin  I  know  another  doth  provoke, 
Murder's  as  near  to  lust,  as  flame  to  smoke  ; 
Poison  and  treason  are  the  hands  of  sin." 

The  sacrificial  requirement  of  the  higher  love,  the 
law  that  the  flesh  must  die  that  the  soul  may  live, 
as  expressed  in  Sonnet  146, 

"  Poor  soul,  the  centre  of  my  sinful  earth, 
Why  feed'st  the  rebel  powers  that  thee  array  ? " 

this  same  truth  forms  the  moral  of  "Love's 
Labour's  Lost,"  and  is  enforced  in  the  penitential 
exercises  imposed  on  the  three  lovers.  The  inferiority 
of  imaginative  love  to  that  of  reason,  shown  in  the 
ascending  scale  of  the  first  series,  is  the  lesson 
taught  in  the  playful  satire  of  "  Midsummer-Night's 
Dream."  And  so  we  might  go  on,  finding  every  maxim 
of  the  sonnets  confirmed  in  the  poet's  other  works. 
This  identity  of  teaching  we  think  shows  that  the 
philosophical  interpretation  we  have  followed  is 
neither  fanciful  nor  arbitrary,  but  has  a  solid  foun- 
dation. 

We  prefaced  this  chapter  with  the  statement  that 
the  sonnets  alone  of  Shakespeare's  works  furnish  a 
clue  to  his  own  feeling,  and  we  would  here  observe 
that  in  them  we  learn,  as  nowhere  else  in  his  writings, 
his  intense  antagonism  to    his    times.     Sonnet    66, 

Q 


242  THE   SONNETS 

already  quoted,  is  a  solemn  impeachment  of  the 
government  of  his  day,  of  its  oppression,  falsehood, 
and  treachery.  All  this  invective  finds  additional 
force  and  significance  when  we  remember  in  whose 
house  and  among  what  private  friends  "  the  sug'red 
sonnets  "  were  read,  circulated,  and  discussed.  Henry 
Wriothesley,  Earl  of  Southampton,  whether  or  no  he 
was  "W.  H.,"  was  undoubtedly  Shakespeare's  one 
literary  patron,  for  there  is  not  the  slightest  evi- 
dence of  his  having  been  in  similar  relations  to 
any  other  distinguished  personage.  To  South- 
ampton he  dedicated  his  "Venus  and  Adonis"  in 
1593,  and  his  "Lucrece"  in  1594,  at  the  very 
time  the  sonnets  were,  according  to  our  com- 
putation, in  course  of  composition.  Both  dedi- 
cations are  in  terms  of  exclusive  devotion.  That  to 
"Lucrece"  is  indeed  recast  in  verse  in  Sonnet  26} 
There  is  then  every  reason  for  believing  that  it  was 
under  Southampton's  roof  and  among  the  earl's 
friends  that  the  sonnets  first  appeared.  Now 
Southampton's  town  house,  "  Drury  House,"  ^  was  as 

^  Lee,  "  Life  of  Shakespeare,"  127. 

2  Southampton  House  was  never  apparently  the  residence  of  the 
poet's  patron.  This  mansion,  situated  in  Holborn,  was  one  of  the 
chief  resorts  of  Catholics  and  priests  in  London,  and  was  repeatedly 
searched  for  recusants.  It  was  leased  to  Mr.  Swithun  Wells  in 
1 59 1.  Here  F.  Edmund  Jennings  was  apprehended  in  his  vestments 
by  Topcliffe  after  saying  Mass,  and  with  him  were  taken  Polydore 
Plasden  and  Eustachius  White,  also  priests ;  Brian  Lacy,  John  Mason, 
and  Sydney  Hodgson,  laymen  ;  and  Mrs.  Wells.  Mrs.  Wells  died  in 
prison.  The  rest  were  martyred  at  Tyburn.  Mr.  Swithun  Wells 
was  hanged  in  Gray's  Inn,  opposite  Southampton  House,  for  having 
allowed  Mass  to  be  said  there. 


LAMENTATIONS  243 

we  have  seen  the  meeting-place  of  the  Essex  con- 
spirators, amongst  whom  were  so  many  of  the  poet's 
country-folk  and  friends.  Shakespeare's  friendship 
with  Southampton  may  then,  we  think,  throw  some 
light  on  the  political  allusions  in  the  sonnets,  though 
we  look  upon  the  whole  collection,  as  has  been  said, 
as  intended  primarily  to  illustrate  the  course  and 
circumstances  of  love. 

The  laments  over  his  time  speak  of  "  Bare  ruined 
choirs,  where  once  the  sweet  birds  sang,"  of 

"  Unswept  stone,  besmeared  with  sluttish  time. 

When  wasteful  war  shall  statues  overturn, 

And  broils  root  out  the  work  of  masonry." 

of  — Sonnet  Iv.  ; 

"  Lofty  towers  down-razed, 

And  brass  eternal  slave  to  mortal  rage." 

— Sonnet  Ixiv. ; 

an  imagery  singularly  applicable  to  the  sanctuaries 
violated,  and  the  brasses  and  images  destroyed  by 
the  Tudor  rule.  Such  metaphors,  as  well  as  that 
of  the  vestments  and  feasts  already  quoted,  form  a 
fitting  framework  to  the  CathoKc  line  of  thought 
traceable  throughout  the  series. 

Lastly,  to  return  to  Southampton.  To  what 
library  could  a  playwright  have  had  access,  sugges- 
tive of  the  following  lines  : — 


and 


"  Show  me  your  image  in  some  antique  book, 
Since  mind  at  first  in  character  was  framed," 

"  When  in  the  chronicle  of  wasted  time 
I  see  descriptions  of  the  fairest  wights, 


244  THE   SONNETS 

And  beauty  making  beautiful  old  rhyme 
In  praise  of  ladies  dead  and  lovely  knights  ; 
Then  in  the  blazon  of  sweet  beauty's  best, 
Of  hand,  of  foot,  of  lip,  of  eye,  of  brow, 
I  see  their  antique  pen  would  have  expressed 
Even  such  a  beauty  as  you  master  now  "  ? 

— Sonnet  cvi. 

Mr.  S.  Lee  tells  us  that  the  collection  of  books 
presented  by  the  Earl  of  Southampton  to  St.  John's 
College,  Cambridge,  "  largely  consisted  of  illuminated 
manuscripts,  books  of  hours,  legends  of  the  saints, 
and  mediaeval  chronicles."  ^ 

*  "  Life  of  Shakespeare,"  382. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE     LOVE     PLAYS. 

Among  the  various  dissertations  contained  in 
"Troilus  and  Cressida,"  that  on  the  origin  and 
nature  of  intellectual  knowledge  forms  a  fitting 
preface  to  an  examination  of  the  love  plays.  The 
passage  we  are  about  to  quote  gives  the  philoso- 
phical principles  of  Shakespeare's  teaching  on  love, 
and  this  philosophy  explains  an  imagery  other- 
wise unintelligible. 

To  Ulysses'  question  why  it  is  that  no  man, 
however  gifted,  knows  either  himself,  or  what  he 
has,  or  whence  it  comes,  save  by  reflection,  Achilles 
answers — 

"  The  beauty  that  is  borne  here  in  the  face 
The  bearer  knows  not,  but  commends  itself 
To  others'  eyes.     Nor  doth  the  eye  itself, 
That  most  pure  spirit  of  sense,  behold  itself, 
Not  going  from  itself  ;  but  eye  to  eye  opposed 
Salutes  each  other  with  each  other's  form. 
For  speculation  turns  not  to  itself 
Till  it  hath  travelled,  and  is  married  there 
Where  it  may  see  itself." 

— Troilus  and  Gressida^  iii.  3. 

The  soul  is  thus  an  eye  which  sees  not  itself,  "  a 
mirror,"  a  "glassy  essence,"  a  retina  void  of  forms. 


246  THE    LOVE   PLAYS 

till  it  is  actuated  by  the  objects  it  reflects.  Thus 
all  objective  speculation  becomes  in  Shakespeare's 
terminology  a  "reverberation,"^  "reflection,"^  issuing 
from  the  union  of  the  knowing  mind  with  the 
known  object.  Without  this  union  sense  and  mind 
are  in  darkness  and  ignorance. 

The  term  "marriage,"  as  thus  employed,  is  not 
merely  a  poetical  figure,  but  the  correct,  scholastic 
expression  for  the  mode  in  which  knowledge  is 
obtained.  For  it  is  from  the  union  of  the  object 
to  be  known  and  the  knowing  mind  that  a 
"  concept "  is  begotten.  The  knowing  mind  is 
united,  not  indeed  with  the  substance  of  the  thing 
known  or  with  its  proper  nature,  but  with  its 
likeness  or  species,  which  the  poet  correctly  terms 
its  "  form  "  {forma  intentionalis),  and  which  actuates 
the  intellectual  faculty  in  the  process  of  knowledge. 
The  intellect,  thus  actuated  or  informed,  conceives 
or  begets  the  object  in  the  ideal  order.  The  object 
thus  conceived  or  known  is  termed,  in  the  language 
both  of  Shakespeare  and  of  scholastic  theology, 
concept  or  "child"  (Sonnet  59).  Thus  even  mate- 
rial things  are  "  married "  to  the  soul,  and  become 
assimilated  to  and  one  with  it.  "The  soul  sees 
itself"  in  them,  the  intellectus  in  actu  and  the  in- 
telligihile  in  actu  being,  as  S.  Thomas^  following 
Aristotle,  says  in  his  "  Summa,"  I.  q.  xiv.  a.  2,  one 
and  the  same.      Thus  if  Shakespeare  follows  Plato 


^  "  Troilus  and  Cressida,"  iii.  3. 
"^  "Julius  Caesar,"  i.  2. 


LOVE   AND   PHILOSOPHY  247 

in  his  doctrine  of  love,  he  is  equally  a  disciple  of 
Aristotle  in  his  theory  of  knowledge. 

Now  we  have  seen  in  the  interpretation  given  of 
the  sonnets,  that  the  true  and  adequate  object  of 
the  soul,  where  "  it  knows  even  as  it  is  known,"  is 
the  ideal  truth,  goodness,  and  beauty,  "  marriage 
with  which  admits  of  no  impediments "  (Sonnet 
1 1 6).  In  this  ideal  alone,  mind  and  heart,  thought 
and  feeling,  find  at  last  their  true  term,  and  love 
and  philosophy  become  identified  in  the  knowledge 
of,  and  union  with,  the  "  only  fair."  Till  that 
object  is  found  and  the  soul  is  drawn  out  of  itself 
in  pursuit  of  its  ideal,  there  can  be  no  development 
of  character,  or  art,  learning,  or  love  worthy  of  the 
name. 

As  love  and  philosophy  are  identical  in  the  lower 
spheres  of  truth  and  love,  so  in  the  highest  sphere  of 
all,  absolute  truth  and  love  are  one.  From  this  unity 
of  principle,  ordering  all  things  in  harmony,  from 
the  "  smallest  orb  to  the  young-eyed  cherubim,"  and 
guiding  all  to  their  one  end,  arises  again  the  affinity 
between  love  and  religion  found  in  Shakespeare's 
plays.  Beauty  of  face  or  form  is  but  a  reflection  of 
the  one  exemplar,  and  the  love  inspired  by  created 
fairness  should  end  in  worship  which,  in  itself  and 
its  object,  is  wholly  spiritual. 

It  follows  from  what  has  been  said  that  the  reli- 
gious allusions  that  abound  in  Shakespeare's  love 
poetry  are  neither  profane  mockeries,  nor  meta- 
physical  figures,  but  the   expression   of  the   poet's 


248  THE    LOVE   PLAYS 

sense  of  the  simple  tendency  of  unimpeded  love,  of 
the  real  community  between  true  love  and  true 
religion.  Hence  comes  the  importance  of  con- 
sidering, as  has  been  already  pointed  out,  what  form 
of  religion  Shakespeare  adopts  in  his  love  plays. 
Does  he  make  true  love,  when  it  uses  religious  lan- 
guage, speak  the  language  of  Protestantism,  of  the 
English  Prayer-book  and  Homilies,  or  that  of  the 
old  religion  ?  Dramatic  exigencies  in  no  way 
hampered  his  choice.  He  need  not  have  selected 
Catholic  countries,  or  if  he  did,  his  reverence  for 
the  conventionalities  of  times  or  places  was  not 
sufficiently  powerful  to  make  him  its  slave.  Thus, 
the  "  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  "  belongs  to  the  days 
of  Henry  V. ;  yet  Evans  is  a  Protestant  parson. 
lUyria,  the  scene  of  "  Twelfth  Night,"  could  hardly 
be  a  Protestant  country ;  yet  the  religious  allusions 
in  it  are  to  a  Protestant  society.  If  Shakespeare 
had  felt  that  it  had  been  proper  to  make  true  love 
speak  as  a  Protestant,  he  either  would  not  have 
chosen  the  stories  of  "  Romeo  and  Juliet "  or  the 
"  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,"  or  if  he  had,  he  would 
boldly  have  made  Romeo  speak  with  the  tongue  of 
the  Reformers. 

With  this  much  of  preface,  we  will  proceed  with 
the  examination  of  Shakespeare's  love  plays,  be- 
ginning with  "  Love's  Labour's  Lost."  According  to 
the  laws  of  chivalry,  which  were  essentially  religious, 
a  knight  had  to  prove  his  manhood  by  deeds  of 
courage   and   endurance,  his   fidelity  by   prolonged 


"love's  labour's  lost"  249 

absence  and  many  tests  of  lais  constancy,  before  he 
could  lay  claim  to  the  hand  of  his  only  fair.  The 
practice  of  penance  or  of  ascetic  exercises  in  some 
form  was  thus  regarded,  according  to  the  mediaeval 
code  of  love,  as  a  necessary  condition  for  winning 
the  affection  of  the  beloved  object.  The  same 
law  is  expressed  in  Shakespeare.  The  princess  in 
"Love's  Labour's  Lost"  sentences  the  king,  if  he 
would  gain  her,  to  spend  a  year  in  a  hermitage, 
remote  from  all  worldly  pleasures,  living  austerely, 
"  Nipped  by  frosts  and  fasts,  hard  lodging  and  thin 
weeds."  Biron,  too,  is  condemned  by  Rosaline  to 
spend  a  year  in  a  hospital  as  a  penance  for  the 
presumption  of  his  love,  and  as  a  test  of  his  con- 
stancy.^ The  same  practice  appears  in  the  "  Two 
Gentlemen  of  Verona." 

"  I  have  done  penance  for  contemning  love 
With  bitter  fasts,  with  penitential  groans, 
With  mighty  tears  and  daily  heartsore  sighs  "  (ii.  4). 

Among  the  trials  proposed  by  Hamlet  to  Laertes  as 
a  test  of  their  love  was  fasting.  "  Wilt  fast  ? "  The 
practice  is  abused  if  exaggerated  or  undertaken 
without  a  worthy  object  and  a  reasonable  hope  of 
success.  Cervantes  satirised  this  abuse  in  his  por- 
trait of  Don  Quixote  alone  in  the  desert,  stripped 
to  the  nude  and  meditating  on  Dulcinea,  who  was 
wholly  ignorant  of  his  affection.  The  purpose  of 
"  Love's  Labour's  Lost."  then,  is  not  to  satirise  the 


2  50  THE    LOVE   PLAYS 

religious  state,  as  some  German  critics  have  taught, 
but  is  to  show  the  futiUty  of  undertaking  penance, 
study,  or  soUtude  without  an  adequate  motive,  viz. 
the  likehhood  of  attaining  the  beloved  object. 
These  things  are  not  good  in  themselves  but  in 
their  end.  Without  this  end  penance  and  solitude 
are  but  "  pain  purchasing  pain,"  and  study,  without 
a  higher  light  guiding  it,  is  but  to  lose  one's  sight. 

The  comedy  in  "  Love's  Labour's  Lost,"  like  that 
in  the  "  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,"  is  meant  to  be 
Protestant.  The  pedant  and  the  curate,  Nathaniel 
and  Holofernes,  dread  of  speaking  concerning  the 
Fathers.  "Tell  me  not  of  the  Fathers;  I  do  fear 
colourable  colours"  (iv.  2).  Under  their  training. 
Costard  catches  the  knack  of  pulpit  oratory,  already 
observed  in  Falstaff,  and  repeated,  as  we  shall  see, 
in  Bottom.  His  formal  discourse  on  the  law-text, 
"  in  matter  and  form  following "  (i.  i ),  would  be 
pointless  were  it  not  evidently  a  parody  of  the  ser- 
monizing of  the  day.  The  ministers  themselves  are 
exhibited,  not  indeed  as  vicious  or  corrupt,  but  as 
weak-minded  pedants,  timid  and  time-serving,  and 
totally  void  both  of  that  sturdy  fidehty  incapable  of 
betraying  "the  devil  to  his  fellow" — the  attribute 
of  the  poet's  true  heroes — and  of  that  versatility, 
fertile  of  expedients  in  difficulties,  peculiar  to  his 
Friars. 

In  the  "  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona "  the  moral 
seems  to  be  fidelity  in  love,  based,  as  we  have  seen 
in  the  sonnets,  on  the  conviction  of  the  sovereign 


"two   gentlemen    of   VERONA  25  I 

truth,  goodness,  and  beauty  of  the  beloved  mistress. 
Thus  Silvia  says  to  Proteus : — 

"  Thou  hast  no  faith  left  now,  unless  thou  hadst  two, 
And  that's  far  worse  than  none  ;  better  have  none 
Than  plural  faith,  which  is  too  much  by  one  "  (v.  3). 

Constancy  in  love  is  the  corner-stone  of  virtue  in 

Shakespeare's  eyes. 

"  0  Heaven, 
Were  man  but  constant,  he  were  perfect ;  that  one  error 
Fills  him  with  faults,  makes  him  run  through  all  sins  ; 
Inconstancy  falls  off  e'er  it  begins  "  (v.  4). 

That  Shakespeare  carried  this  feeling  into  religion 
also  is  seen  from  the  contempt  with  which  he  speaks 
of  those  who  go  where  grace  is  said  "  in  any  religion  " 
("  Measure  for  Measure,"  i.  2),  and  of  that  "  past- 
saving  slave  "  ParoUes,  who  offers  to  take  the  sacra- 
ment "  how  or  which  way  you  will "  ("  All's  Well 
that  Ends  Well,"  iv.  3),  very  much  as  we  have  seen 
Ben  Jonson  did.  Hence  the  sting  of  Beatrice's 
taunt  of  Benedick  ("Much  Ado  about  Nothing,"  i.  i), 
"  He  wears  his  faith  but  as  the  fashion  of  his  hat. 
It  ever  changes  with  the  next  block."  On  the 
other  hand,  infidelity  in  love,  the  religion  of  the  eye, 
is  heresy,^  and  the  woman  who  causes  it  is  said  to 
"  found  a  sect."  Even  the  true  professions  of  a  lover 
who  is  rejected  are  called  heresy,^  for  truth  is  not 

^  "Romeo  and  Juliet,"  1.  2,  93;  "Cymbeline,"  iii.   4;  "Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor,"  iv.  4  ;  "  Midsummer-Night's  Dream,"  ii.  3. 
2  "Twelfth  Night,"  1.  5. 


252  THE    LOVE    PLAYS 

merely  a  subjective  creation,  but  consists  in  the 
conformity  of  the  thought  and  its  object. 

But  there  was  a  worship  severely  condemned  in 
Shakespeare's  day  as  idolatry.  In  the  "  Two  Gentle- 
men of  Verona  "  (iv.  2)  he  employs  the  word  in  its 
Protestant  sense  for  all  worship  of  images  or  relics. 
He  qualifies  it,  however,  by  leaving  us  to  infer  that 
there  is  a  good  idolatry,  as  well  as  the  bad  one 
that  worships  false  deities.  So  he  makes  Sylvia 
say,  when  she  gives  her  picture  to  Proteus : — 

"  I  am  very  loth  to  be  your  idol,  sir  ; 
But  since  your  falsehood  shall  become  you  well 
To  worship  shadows,  and  adore  false  shapes, 
Send  to  me  in  the  morning,  and  I'll  send  it." 

— Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  iv.  2. 

A    few    scenes    afterwards,  Julia    addresses    this 

picture : — 

"  0  thou  senseless  form, 
Thou  shalt  be  worshipped,  kissed,  loved,  and  adored  ; 
And  were  there  sense  in  his  idolatry. 
My  substance  should  be  statue  in  thy  stead  "  (iv.  4). 

Compare  what  Helena  says  of  Bertram  in  "  All's 
Well  that  Ends  Well." 

"  He's  gone,  and  my  idolatrous  fancy 
Must  sanctify  his  relics  "  (i.  i). 

This  employment,  in  a  good  sense,  of  a  term 
generally  used  in  mockery  is  the  boldest  form  of 
approval  of  the  principle  attacked. 

The  moral  of  the  "Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona" 
is  brought  out  in  the  contrast  of  the  two  characters 


LOVE   AND    FRIENDSHIP  253 

of  Valentine  and  Proteus.  Valentine  is  the  pro- 
totype of  fidelity,  his  fancy  being  subjected  to  his 
reason — a  type  repeated  in  Bassanio  and  Henry 
V.  Proteus  represents  inconstancy,  for  with  him 
fancy  commands  reason,  as  in  Romeo,  Orsino  in 
"  Twelfth  Night,"  and  the  two  lovers  in  the  "  Mid- 
summer-Night's Dream."  The  superior  claims  of 
pure  friendship  to  love  which  terminates  in  mar- 
riage, a  principle  already  enunciated  in  the  sonnets, 
is  enforced  again  in  the  readiness  of  Valentine  to 
surrender  Sylvia  to  Proteus  (v.  4);  and  of  Bas- 
sanio to  sacrifice  himself  and  his  wife  for  Antonio 
("Merchant  of  Venice,"  iv.  i ).  Proteus  on  the  other 
hand,  with  a  passion  merely  selfish,  like  that  of 
Arcita  in  Chaucer,  could  not  understand  how  friend- 
ship should  be  respected  in  love  (v.  4). 

The  supernatural  development  of  the  love  of 
friendship  appears  in  the  "  Midsummer  -  Night's 
Dream "  (i.  i ),  where  human  and  divine  love  are 
compared,  with  the  conclusion  that,  however  happy 
the  lot  of  the  maiden  loving  and  beloved,  her  happi- 
ness is  more  earthly  than  that  of  the  thrice  blessed 
nun,  whose  love  is  "  dedicate  to  nothing  temporal," 
but  to  God  Himself.  Charity  thus  eclipses  all  human 
loves,  or  rather  embodies  them  in  itself,  transfigures 
and  transubstantiates  them  into  its  own  form  and 
substance.  We  find  something  like  this  in  "  Hamlet " 
(i.  5).  When  he  dedicates  his  life  to  performing  the 
commands  of  his  father's  ghost,  he  casts  out  every- 
thing from  his  mind,  except  the  one  remembrance, 


2  54  THE    LOVE   PLAYS 

the  one  commandment,  and  at  once,  in  obedience 
to  this  resolution,  sacrifices  the  love  of  Ophelia. 
The  sacrifice  of  a  lower  to  a  higher  love  is  then 
no  breach  of  constancy,  but  rather  a  severe  and 
inexorable  duty,  imposed  by  the  nature  of  the  obli- 
gation already  contracted.  Shakespeare's  teaching 
on  this  subject  is  thus,  we  see,  in  exact  accordance 
with  the  Church's  doctrine  of  the  imperative  and 
supreme  claims  of  a  religious  vocation,  in  comparison 
with  those  of  the  closest  human  ties.  The  truth  that 
the  stronger  absorbs  the  weaker  flame  is  embodied 
in  a  proverbial  expression  often  used  by  the  poet, 
"  Fire  drives  out  fire."  ^  The  principle,  when  per- 
verted, appUes  of  course  also  to  an  evil  passion,  if 
dominant;  thus  Lady  Macbeth  declared  that  her 
ambition  overrode  any  maternal  instinct. 

The  manners  in  the  "  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  " 
are  Catholic,  and  some  Catholic  expressions  are 
used.  The  metaphor  of  having  "  a  month's  mind  " 
is  an  old  Catholic  expression  still  in  use  and  is 
intended  to  designate  the  mass  of  requiem  cele- 
brated a  month  after  a  person's  decease.  Sylvia 
goes  to  Friar  Patrick's  cell  for  "  holy  confession " ; 
Julia  compares  her  affection  to  the  unwearied  steps 
of  the  time-devoted  pilgrim.  Thurio  and  Proteus 
are  to  meet  at  St.  Gregory's  Well,  as  in  "  Measure 
for  Measure "  (iv.  3)  the  Duke  desires  Angelo  to 
meet  him  "  at  the  consecrated  fount  a  league  below 

'  •'Coriolanus,"  iv.   7;  "Julius  Caesar,"  iii.    i;  "King  John," 
iii  I  ;  '•  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  i.  2. 


255 

the  city."  Launce  appropriately  invokes  St.  Nicholas 
to  aid  Speed  to  read,  for  this  Saint  was  the  patron 
of  scholars.  Sir  Eglamour  had  made  a  solemn  vow 
of  chastity  (iv.  3). 

The  "  Comedy  of  Errors "  is  an  early  play  of 
Shakespeare's,  and  is  remarkable  as  his  adaptation 
of  Plautus  to  the  English  stage,  representing  the 
Latin  comedy  as  "  Richard  III."  does  the  Greek  tra- 
gedy. Both  are  adaptations  rather  than  imitations 
and  as  such,  reveal  to  the  inquirer  many  secrets 
concerning  Shakespeare's  art.  With  regard  to  his 
religious  opinions  the  "  Comedy  of  Errors  "  has  not 
much  to  tell  us.  We  find  it  an  amusing  specimen 
of  Shakespeare's  indifference  to  the  conventionalities 
of  time  and  place  already  referred  to,  when  he 
endows  the  inhabitants  of  ancient  Syracuse  with 
the  habits  and  customs  of  Catholic  countries,  and 
makes  one  of  the  Dromios  call  out  for  his  beads 
and  cross  himself  (ii.  2) ;  while  Adriana  offers  to 
shrive  her  husband  (ii.  2).  The  theological  jokes 
about  bailiffs  (iv.  2,  3),  and  the  jest  of  mistak- 
ing the  courtesan  for  the  devil  (iv.  3),  all  belong 
to  Shakespeare's  day;  so  do  the  conjurations  ot 
the  cheating  juggler  Pinch,  which  belong  to  the 
same  class  of  magical  cheats  as  the  pretensions  of 
Glendower.  But  in  this  play  Shakespeare  is  care- 
ful to  distinguish  between  the  iUicit  impostures  of 
Pinch  "  conjuring  by  all  the  saints  in  heaven " 
(iv.  4)  and  the  lawful  and  remedial  exorcisms  of 
the  Abbess — for  Shakespeare  will  not  deprive  even 


2  56  THE    LOVE   PLAYS 

the  Pagan  Greeks  of  the  benefits  of  the  religious 
orders  and  of  Christian  charity. 

"  I  will  not  let  him  stir 
Till  I  have  used  the  approved  means  I  have 
With  wholesome  syrups,  drugs  and  holy  prayers, 
To  make  of  him  a  formal  man  again  : 
It  is  a  branch  and  parcel  of  mine  oath, 
A  charitable  duty  of  mine  order"  (v.  i). 

But  a  duty  of  the   effects  of  which   poor   Adriana 
complains. 

"  111  doth  it  beseem  your  holiness 
To  separate  the  husband  and  the  wife  "  (v.  i ) ; 

though  her  respect  for  the  cloister  will  not  allow  her 
to  force  an  entrance. 

In  this  play,  as  in  "  Much  Ado  about  Nothing," 
"  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  and  "  Measure  for  Measure," 
the  "  religious,"  the  Friar,  and  the  Nun  are  not  only 
patterns  of  personal  purity,  but  centres  of  a  soothing 
higher  influence,  in  which  the  contradictions  of  the 
characters  and  the  intricacies  of  the  plot  find  their 
solution.  But  we  shall  have  to  return  to  this 
subject. 

As  Shakespeare  in  the  "  Comedy  of  Errors  "  has 
made  Pagan  S3n:acuse  a  Catholic  city,  so  in  the 
"  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  "  he  has  made  the 
England  of  Henry  V.  Protestant :  at  least,  he  has 
peopled  it  with  Protestant  ministers  and  laymen. 
The  reUgious  element  here,  however,  begets  not 
peace,  but  discord,  and  awakes  the  pungent  har- 


"merry  wives  of  Windsor"        257 

monies  of  this  stimulating  scherzo.  Parson  Evans 
prays  his  Bible  well,  commends  the  virtue  which 
resolves  only  to  be  "drunk  in  company  with  men 
who  fear  God "  (i.  i ) ;  and  through  ignorance  of 
Latin,  condemns,  as  affected,  quotations  he  should 
have  recognised  as  biblical.  Though  he  exerts  a 
certain  ministerial  power,  as  when  he  bids  Ford  pray 
and  not  follow  the  imaginations  of  his  own  heart 
(iv.  2) ;  yet  in  his  peppery  Welsh  temper,  his  lax 
standard  of  morality,  and  his  very  unclerical  duel- 
ling, feasting,  and  mumming,  he  still  presents  but  a 
scurvy  model  of  the  Parson,  very  different  from  the 
Friars  and  Nuns  of  the  plays  above  mentioned.  In 
the  "  Merry  Wives,"  the  religion  of  the  characters  is 
all  a  chaos.  It  is  "  the  Hundredth  Psalm  to  the 
tune  of  '  Green  Sleeves  ' "  (ii.  i ).  Mistress  Quickly 
does  not  much  exaggerate  the  prevailing  confusion 
when  she  calls  it  "  peevishness  to  be  given  to  prayer  " 
(i.  4),  and  encourages  FalstafF  to  hope  in  Mrs. 
Page's  compliance,  because  she  is  a  "  virtuous,  civil, 
modest  wife,  and  one  that  will  not  miss  you  morning 
nor  evening  prayer."  And  again,  *'  Good  hearts ! 
what  ado  there  is  to  bring  you  together  ;  sure  one  of 
you  does  not  serve  Heaven  well,  that  you  are  so 
crossed  "  (ii.  5).  Most  of  these  extremely  satirical 
hits  at  the  religion  of  the  characters  appear  first  in 
the  remodelled  play.  They  are  fit  only  for  persons 
who  belong  to  a  system  where  the  principles  of 
morals  are  obscured,  and  such  a  system  can  only 
be    found   in   Calvinism    or  Lutheranism,  or    their 


258  THE   LOVE   PLAYS 

progeny.  Even  those  who  most  condemn  the 
dogmatic  system  of  the  mediaeval  Church,  confess 
that  she  never  obscured  or  perverted  the  principles 
of  morals. 

Mrs.  Page  has  the  cudgel  wherewith  Ford  had 
beaten  Falstaff  "  hallowed  and  hung  o'er  the  altar  " 
for  its  meritorious  service  (iv.  2).  In  the  conver- 
sation between  the  two  ladies  about  this  beating — 
one  affirming  that  it  was  pitifully  done,  and  the  other 
"  most  unpitifuUy  " — there  is  a  notable  resemblance 
to  Sir  John  Harrington's  fine  epigram  on  the  execu- 
tion of  Essex,  Blount,  and  Danvers — 

"  lij't  not  great  pity,  think  you.    No  !  said  I, 
There  is  no  man  of  sense  in  all  the  city 
Will  say  'tis  great,  but  rather  little  pity." 

And  the  joke  of  Falstaff  about  Mr.  Ford's  "  legions 
of  angels"  (i.  3)  is  found  admirably  developed  in 
Harrington's  character  of  Bishop  Scory.  The  tale  of 
Heme  the  hunter  related  by  "  the  superstitious, 
idle-headed  elf"  is  another  instance  of  Shakespeare's 
contempt  for  unfounded  stories  of  devilry. 

Shakespeare  in  Fenton's  defence  of  Anne  Page's 
clandestine  marriage  lays  down  accurately  the  Catho- 
lic doctrine  on  the  subject.  The  contracting  parties 
have  a  right  to  perfect  freedom  of  choice  in  the 
engagement  they  form.  The  wishes  of  the  parents 
should  indeed  be  consulted,  and  as  far  as  possible 
followed.  The  children,  however,  are  not  bound  to 
yield  to  parental  injunctions  which  are    imreason- 


"midsummer-night's  dream"        259 

able,  or  are  inspired  by  motives  of  worldly  policy 
or  sordid  interest.  This  is  the  pith  of  Fenton's 
speech : — 

"  Fenton.  Hear  the  truth  of  it. 

You  would  have  married  her  most  shamefully 
When  there  was  no  proportion  held  in  love. 
The  truth  is,  she  and  I,  long  since  contracted, 
Are  now  so  sure,  that  nothing  can  dissolve  us. 
The  oflFence  is  holy  that  she  hath  committed  ; 
And  this  deceit  loses  the  name  of  craft, 
Of  disobedience,  or  unduteous  title, 
Since  therein  she  doth  evil  hate  and  shun 
A  thousand  irreligious  cursed  hours 
Which  forced  marriage  would  have  brought  upon  her  "  (v.  5). 

The  "  Midsummer-Night's  Dream  "  exhibits  love 
in  its  second  degree,  when  the  object  is  created  by 
the  fantasy,  uncontrolled  by  reason.  Love  thus  be- 
gotten is  essentially  short-lived,  transitory,  and  fickle, 
and  becomes  attached  in  turn  to  any  object  pre- 
sented to  the  senses.  This  central  idea  is  expressed 
when  Hippolyta,  tired  of  Bottom's  interlude,  yawns 
and  says,  "  This  is  the  silliest  stuff."  Theseus 
answers,  "  The  best  in  this  kind  are  but  shadows, 
and  the  worst  are  no  worse  if  imagination  mend 
them "  ;  and  she  again  replies,  "  It  must  be  your 
imagination  then,  and  not  theirs  "  (v.  i ).  Theseus, 
in  the  opening  speech  of  the  fifth  act,  explains  it 
more  fully.  Plato  (Phsedrus,  c.  47,  p.  244)  enu- 
merates four  inspired  frenzies  which  supersede 
reason  ;  that  of  Apollo,  or  prophecy  ;  of  Dionysus, 
ritualistic  religion ;    of  the  Muses,  poetry ;   and  of 


26o  THE    LOVE   PLAYS 

Gods,  love.  Shakespeare,  leaving  out  religion,  enu- 
merates only  three,  the  frenzy  of  the  lunatic,  of 
the  poet,  and  of  the  lover,  and  in  them  all  he  finds 
one  predominant  quality.  They  are  "of  imagination 
all  compact."  Their  seething  brains  and  shaping 
fantasies  "  apprehend  more  than  cool  reason  ever 
comprehends  " ;  for  it  is  the  nature  of  imagination 
that  if  it  would  apprehend  some  joy,  it  must  invent, 
find,  picture  a  cause  or  object,  which  is  not  neces- 
sarily reasonable.  Imagination  gives  in  one  pre- 
sentation both  the  feeling  and  the  cause  of  the 
feeling — the  one  is  the  apprehension,  the  other  the 
comprehension  or  comes  (companion).  The  rational 
judgment,  summoned  to  take  note  of  the  proceediug, 
authenticates  the  apprehension,  or  condemns  it  as 
false,  because  devoid  of  any  real  objective  prototype. 
Shakespeare  does  not  confine  this  stricture  to  the 
imagination  of  madmen,  poets,  and  lovers.  He 
generalises  the  doctrine,  and  assigns  to  imagination 
everywhere  the  invention,  not  the  discovery,  of 
causes,  which  are  practically  only  hypotheses  for  the 
cool  reason  to  test. 

The  play  is  a  comment  on  this  text.  It  exhibits 
a  variety  of  persons  with  a  strong  feeling  in  their 
"shaping  fantasies,"  all  constant  to  their  own  feel- 
ing, but  most  inconstant,  since  determined  by  the 
merest  accidents,  as  to  their  object.  Thus  Demetrius 
nurses  a  passion,  of  which  he  first  supposes  Helena 
to  be  the  bringer.  Then  some  accident  makes  him 
substitute   Hermia.     At   last   Puck,   by    squeezing 


IMAGINATIVE    LOVE  26  I 

lime-juice  in  his  eye,  makes  his  fancy  revert  to 
the  first  object.  So  Lysander  has  a  plentiful  fire 
of  love.  The  fuel  is  first  supposed  to  be  Hermia, 
then  Helena,  then  Hermia  again.  Titania's  "  shap- 
ing fantasy "  is  so  strong  that  it  can  see  an 
Hyperion  in  the  ass-headed  Bottom.  So  Bottom's 
play  is  wretched  stuff,  but  the  shaping  imaginations 
of  the  spectators  can  make  it  as  good  as  the  best. 
In  all  these  cases  the  apprehension,  the  internal 
feeling,  is  constant;  but  the  comprehension,  the 
judgment  which  affirms  the  cause  or  object  of  the 
feeling,  and  picks  out  the  bringer  (upholder,  sub- 
stantiator)  of  the  joy  is  fickle,  uncertain,  the  sport 
of  chance  and  of  the  accidental  perils  which  beset 
the  course  of  love. 

And  yet  this  fickle  judgment,  this  ungrounded, 
imaginative  opinion  which  has  no  basis  more  rela- 
tive than  a  little  juice  squeezed  into  the  eye, 
aifects  the  pompous  title  of  reason,  and  pretends 
to  have  the  right  to  sway  the  enthe  man.  Thus 
Lysander,  bewitched  by  Puck,  fancies  that  he  has 
just  come  to  the  use  of  reason. 

"  The  will  of  man  is  by  his  reason  swayed, 
And  reason  says  you  are  the  worthier  maid  "  (ii.  2). 

And  led  by  this  false  reason  into  a  heresy  in  love, 
he  moralises  on  his  conversion,  and  declares  the 
sudden  and  irrational  hatred  which  he  has  conceived 
for  his  former  love. 


262  THE    LOVE   PLAYS 

**  The  heresies  that  men  do  leave 
Are  hated  most  of  them  they  did  deceive  *'  (ii.  3). 

In  the  base  mechanical  drudges,  Bottom  and  his 
crew,  Shakespeare  glances  at  some  of  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  rabble  of  his  day.  They  are  no 
longer  the  socialist  mob  of  Jack  Cade,  but  a  puri- 
tanical rabble  whose  itching  ears  have  been  caught 
by  the  psalmody  of  Sternhold  and  Hopkins,  and 
by  the  profane  scripturality  of  the  pulpit.  Thus 
(iii.  i)  Quince  wants  the  prologue  written  in  eight 
and  six;  "make  it  eight  and  eight,"  says  Bottom. 
This  worthy,  abashed  by  his  new  glory,  protests. 
"  I  am  a  man  as  other  men  are " ;  and  after  his 
adventures  with  Titania,  he  can  find  no  language 
so  appropriate  to  describe  his  dream  as  an  absurd 
travesty  of  St.  Paul's  words  on  heaven:  "The  eye 
of  man  hath  not  heard,  the  ear  of  man  hath  not 
seen,  man's  hand  is  not  able  to  taste,  his  tongue 
to  conceive,  nor  his  heart  to  report  what  my 
dream  was"  (iv.  i).  There  we  have  the  same 
sermonizing  element  already  traced  in  FalstafF  and 
Costard. 

Even  amongst  the  fun  of  the  fairies  we  find 
traces  of  the  poet's  Catholic  spirit.  Oberon's  bless- 
ing of  the  bridal  chamber  reads  almost  like  a  para- 
phrase of  the  Benedictio  Thalami  in  the  Church's 
Kitual,  which  is  as  follows:  "Bless,  0  Lord,  this 
bed.  May  all  who  dwell  in  it  remain  in  Thy 
peace,  abide  in  Thy  will,  grow  to  old  age,  and 
be  multiplied  to  the  length  of  days,  and  attain  at 


•*  ROMEO   AND   JULIET '*  263 

last  to   the  kingdom  of  heaven.      Through  Christ 
our  Lord." 

"  Oberon.  To  the  best  bride-bed  will  we, 
Which  by  us  shall  blessed  be. 
And  the  issue  there  create 
Ever  shall  be  fortunate. 
So  shall  all  the  couples  three 
Ever  true  and  loving  be. 

With  this  field-dew  consecrate, 

Every  fairy  take  his  gait ; 

And  each  several  chamber  bless 

Through  this  palace  with  sweet  peace  ; 

Ever  shall't  in  safety  rest 

And  the  owner  of  it  blest "  (v.  2). 

According  to  the  prologue,  the  moral  of  "  Romeo 
and  Juliet "  is  the  redeeming  and  atoning  power  of 
dying  for  love.  With  their  death  their  parents* 
strife  is  ended,  and  an  apparently  implacable  feud 
is  healed.  But  the  poet  sees  deeper  than  this 
external  and  adventitious  action  of  love ;  he  ana- 
tomises its  core.  Romeo's  love  for  Rosaline  was 
but  a  passing  fancy,  and  was  therefore  fickle  and 
accidental.  It  was  merely  a  subjective  feeling,  and 
belonged  to  that  class  of  affections  which  thrives 
best  in  solitude  (i.  i).  Hence  Rosaline  is  purposely 
kept  out  of  sight,  and  Benvolio  says  of  Romeo, 
"  blind  is  his  love  that  best  befits  the  dark,"  and 
the  Friar  reproaches  him  for  doting,  not  for  loving 
Rosaline,  and  for  shedding  so  many  tears  "  to 
season  love,  that  of  it  doth  not  taste."  Romeo's 
attachment  to  Juliet,  on  the  other  hand,  had  the 


264  THE   LOVE   PLAYS 

character  of  a  violent,  headstrong  passion,  enkindled 
and  sustained  by  the  object,  and  bent  at  all  costs 
on  its  immediate  possession. 

The  development  hinges  much  on  the  action 
of  Friar  Laurence,  one  of  Shakespeare's  kindliest 
creations,  which  strikingly  contrasts  with  the  portrait 
drawn  of  the  same  character  by  A.  Brook. 

"  One  of  Shakespeare's  earliest  plays,"  Knight  says, 
"  is  '  Romeo  and  Juliet.'  .  .  .  Friar  Laurence  going 
forth  from  his  cell  in  the  morning  twilight  to 
fill  his  osier  basket  with  weeds  and  flowers,  and 
moralising  on  the  properties  of  plants  which  at  once 
yield  poison  and  medicine,  has  all  the  truth  of  indi- 
vidual portraiture.  But  Friar  Laurence  is  also  the 
representation  of  a  class ;  the  Infirmarian  of  a  monas- 
tic house,  who  had  charge  of  the  sick  brethren,  was 
often,  in  the  early  days  of  medical  science,  their 
only  physician.  ...  In  *  Much  Ado  About  Nothing,' 
it  is  the  Friar  who,  when  Hero  is  unjustly  accused 
.  .  .  vindicates  her  reputation  with  as  much  saga- 
city as  charitable  zeal.  ...  In  '  Measure  for  Measure ' 
the  whole  plot  is  carried  on  by  the  Duke  assuming 
the  reverend  manners,  and  professing  the  active 
benevolence  of  a  Friar;  and  his  agents  and  confi- 
dants are  Friar  Thomas  and  Friar  Peter.  In  an 
age  when  the  prejudices  of  the  multitude  were 
flattered  and  stimulated  by  abuse  and  ridicule  of 
the  ancient  ecclesiastical  character,  Shakespeare 
always  exhibits  it  so  as  to  command  respect  and 
affection.     The  poisoning  of  King  John  by  a  monk, 


THE    FRIARS   AND   SCIENCE  265 

'  a  resolved  villain,'  is  despatched  by  him  with  little 
more  than  an  allusion."  ^ 

The  fact  is  that  Shakespeare  has  caught  all  the 
prominent  features  of  the  order  in  Friar  Laurence; 
who  is  a  much  truer  portrait  of  the  historical 
friar,  as  brought  out  by  Mr.  Brewer  (Momcmenta 
Franciscana,  Pref.),  than  Chaucer's  caricatures.  Dr. 
Ingram  argues  that  Shakespeare  must  have  been  a 
Protestant,  because  he  gives  us  "  no  worthy  idealisa- 
tion of  the  Catholic  Priest,"  like  Chaucer's  Parson, 
or  Manzoni's  Cardinal.  The  argument  might  as 
well  have  been  that  Chaucer  could  not  have  been 
a  Cathohc,  because  he  gives  us  no  worthy  picture 
of  the  Friar  like  Shakespeare's.  The  Franciscan 
was  the  natural  philosopher  of  the  middle  ages ; 
he  was  the  Infirmarian  or  the  hospitaller,  not 
of  his  own  convent  only,  but  of  the  whole  town 
population.  The  exigencies  of  the  physician  had 
led  him  to  the  study  of  alchemy,  and  in  him  lay 
all  the  knowledge  of  chemistry  that  the  age  pos- 
sessed. Friar  Bacon  was  in  this  respect  only  the 
flower  of  his  order.  He  was  an  exceptional  specimen, 
not  in  the  line,  but  in  the  extent  of  his  knowledge. 
The  Franciscan  was  not  a  merely  scholastic  student 
of  nature,  but  to  his  reading  he  added  observation, 
"  which  with  experimental  seal  did  warrant  the 
tenor  of  his  book,"  as  the  Friar  says  in  "  Much  Ado," 
iv.  I. 

To  appreciate  rightly  the  action  of  Friar  Laurence 

1  Knight's  "Biography  of  Shakespeare,"  183. 


266  THE   LOVE  PLAYS 

and  the  standard  of  morality  exhibited  in  the  play, 
it  must  be  remembered  that  the  plot  is  not  of  Shake- 
speare's creation.  Its  scheme  came  into  his  hands 
complete,  even  to  its  details.  His  power  was  shown 
in  quickening  the  dead  bones,  and  in  the  life  they 
exhibit  when  they  arise  and  speak  under  his  magic 
touch.  Unless  this  be  borne  in  mind  it  might  seem 
that  the  poet  regarded  suicide  as  a  legitimate  means 
for  the  attainment  of  such  an  important  end  as  the 
extinction  of  a  faction  feud,  and  that  in  Juliet's  case 
the  Friar  offered  little,  if  any,  opposition.  We  believe, 
however,  that  a  careful  consideration  of  the  piece 
will  show  that  the  poet  has  never  departed  from 
the  principle  enunciated  in  "  Hamlet,"  that  "  Heaven 
has  fixed  its  canon  against  self-slaughter,"  and  that 
the  Friar's  advice  is  always  in  accordance  with  the 
purest  morality.  He  agrees  to  Romeo's  marriage 
with  Juliet,  not  as  an  intriguing  match-maker,  but 
as  one  who  knows  what  human  nature  is,  and  that 
in  the  present  case  things  had  gone  so  far,  no  other 
course  was  possible.  He  also  hoped  their  alliance 
might  heal  the  deadly  enmity  existing  between  the 
Montagues  and  Capulets  (ii.  4).  At  the  same  time 
he  has  his  misgivings.  He  prays  Heaven's  blessing 
on  the  rite  he  is  about  to  perform,  lest  its  sequel 
bring  misery  to  all  concerned,  himself  included.  In 
the  same  strain  he  rebukes  Romeo's  rapturous  assur- 
ance that  no  subsequent  misery  could  outweigh  the 
joy  of  even  a  momentary  union  to  Juliet  with  the 
grave  warning — 


CONSOLATIONS    OF   PHILOSOPHY  267 

"  Violent  delights  have  violent  ends, 
And  in  their  triumph  die,  like  fire  and  powder, 
Which,  as  they  kiss,  consume  "  (ii.  6). 

Love  that  lasts  is  measured  and  reasonable,  and  not 
a  mere  impulse  of  feeling. 

Again,  he  shows  the  same  varied  knowledge  of 
human  nature,  and  his  care  for  the  purity  of  the 
souls  entrusted  to  him,  in  insisting  on  the  discipline 
of  the  Church,  that  the  betrothed  should  not  remain 
together  alone  in  their  clandestine  relationship  till 
their  marriage  was  performed.  He  has  been  ridi- 
culed for  sophistry  and  sententiousness  for  offering 
to  Romeo,  when  maddened  with  the  news  of  his 
banishment,  the  consolation  of  "  adversity's  sweet 
milk,  philosophy " ;  and  Romeo's  reply,  "  Hang  up 
philosophy,  unless  philosophy  can  make  a  Juliet," 
is  judged  alike  apposite  and  reasonable.  But  by 
philosophy  was  meant,  not  a  system  of  syllogisms 
or  metaphysics,  but  the  heavenly  wisdom,  which  is 
the  only  true  comfort  left,  when  earth's  hopes  are 
gone.  The  martyr  S.  Boetius'  book  De  Conside- 
ratione  Philosophise  —  a  standard  authority  with 
Dante — composed  in  prison,  like  B.  Thomas  More's 
"  Dialogue  of  Comfort  under  Tribulation,"  was  a  work 
from  which  many  of  Shakespeare's  thoughts  and 
expressions  seem  borrowed.  In  any  case,  the  term 
would  have  naturally  been  employed  and  understood 
in  the  spiritual  sense.  The  Friar's  personality  and 
character  seem  indeed  to  give  a  religious  colouring  to 
the  persons  or  subjects  he  deals  with.     He  is  always 


2  68  THE   LOVE   PLAYS 

regarded  as  the  mender  of  ills  and  the  physician  of 
souls.  Thus  Romeo,  even  when  exasperated  at  the 
news  of  his  exile,  asks  — 

"  How  hast  thou  the  heart, 
Being  a  divine,  a  ghostly  confessor, 
A  sin  absolver,  and  a  friend  professed. 
To  mangle  me  with  that  word  '  banished '  ? "  (iii.  3). 

In  the  Friar's  presence  Romeo  continues  to  speak  in 
the  same  religious  strain.  Outside  Verona,  Juliet's 
home,  is  "purgatory,  torture,  hell  itself"  (iii.  3); 
and  when  he  learns  that  he  is  "  banished,"  he  ex- 
claims with  complete  theological  accuracy — 

"  Oh  Friar,  the  damned  use  the  word  in  hell ; 
Howlings  attend  it." 

So,  too,  Paris  leaves  Juliet  alone  with  the  Friar,  with 
the  remark,  "  God  shield  I  should  disturb  devotion  " 
(iv.  i).  Similarly  the  remark  of  the  nurse,  "See 
where  she  comes  from  shrift  with  merry  look'  (iv.  2), 
indicates  the  cheering  results  and  the  consolation 
she  attributes  to  the  sacrament  of  penance.  Nor  is 
all  this  confidence  misplaced.  The  Friar  is  frank, 
simple-minded,  and  high  principled,  as  beseems  his 
ofiice.  He  speaks  out  openly  to  Romeo  his  fears  as 
to  his  past  conduct  with  Rosaline  (ii.  3),  and  will  be 
satisfied  with  no  equivocal  explanation. 

"  Be  plain,  good  son,  and  homely  in  thy  drift, 
Riddling  confession  finds  but  riddling  shrift "  (Ibid.). 


CATHOLIC   PHRASEOLOGY  269 

He  condemns  mth  a  holy  indignation  Romeo's 
thought  of  suicide  as  brutish,  cowardly,  effeminate, 
and  unnatural.  He  devises  the  sleeping  potion  for 
Juliet,  as  the  only  escape  from  a  hated  union  with 
Paris.  He  strives  his  utmost  to  shape  for  good  the 
burden  laid  on  his  shoulders — the  three  lovers'  un- 
reasonable, incompatible,  and  impossible  demands, 
the  old  Capulet's  unwarrantable  anger.  At  length, 
when  all  fails,  he  offers  simply  and  readily  the  sac- 
rifice of  his  own  life — 

"  If  aught  in  this  miscarried  of  my  fault"  (v.  3). 

The  Friar's  action,  however,  produced  in  the  end  a 
blessed  result.  The  clandestine  marriage  terminates, 
after  its  own  tragic  conclusion,  in  the  reconciliation 
of  the  warring  factions. 

With  regard  to  other  religious  allusions  in  the 
play,  we  postpone  to  Chapter  IX.  the  discussion  of 
the  Friar's  speech  on  Nature,  and  the  lesson  it 
teaches.  The  line  "  Too  early  seen,  unknown,  and 
known  too  late  "  (i.  5 )  recalls  the  well-known  prayer 
of  St.  Augustine,  "  Sero  te  cognovi,  sero  te  amavi." 
This  and  other  instances  show  that  Shakespeare 
caught  not  only  the  echoes  of  Catholic  doctrine,  but 
the  very  phrases  in  which  they  were  expressed.  The 
fine  line  which  Pericles  addresses  to  Mariana,  "  Thou 
that  beget'st  him  that  did  thee  beget,"  recalls  the 
opening  of  the  33rd  Canto  of  the  "Paradise,"  "Vir- 
gine  e  madre  Figlia  del  tuo  Figlio."     It  is  an  echo 


2  70  THE    LOVE   PLAYS 

also  of  the  martyr  Father  Southwell's  ^  contemporary 
lines  in  his  hymn  on  the  Nativity  of  Christ — 

"  Betold  the  Father  in  his  daughter's  Son, 
The  bird  that  built  the  nest  is  hatched  therein." 

In  like  manner  Mr.  Douce  finds  the  prototype  of  the 
passage  in  "  Hamlet,"  "  The  cock  that  is  the  trumpet 
of  the  morn,"  &c.,  in  a  hymn  from  the  "  Salisbury 
Breviary " ;  and  Cicero's  observation  in  "  Julius 
Caesar  "  (i.  4) — 

"  Men  may  construe  things  after  their  fashion 
Clean  from  the  purpose  of  the  things  themselves," 

seems  a  reminiscence  of  an  old  English  rhyme — 

"  There  the  Bible  is  all  myswrent 
To  jangle  of  Job  or  Jeremye, 
That  construen  hit  after  her  intent 
For  lewde  lust  of  LoUardie." 

— Political  SonffSj  ii.  243. 

Other  specimens  of  Shakespeare's  reproducing  old 
English  forms  may  be  noted.  Thus  his  line  in  Sonnet 
1 04,  "  For  as  you  were  when  first  your  eye  I  eyed,"  is 
simply  a  variation  of  Robert  of  Gloucester's  rhythm, 
"Ar  they  iwar  war" — ere  they  were  aware;  and 
Ben  Jonson's  instance  of  Shakespeare's  want  of  sense 
removed  by  his  editors,  "  Caesar  doth  never  wrong 
but  with  just  cause,"  is  only  an  echo  of  the  Saxon 

^  Mr.  S.  Lee  has  brought  to  notice  the  fact  that  Father  South- 
well's "Fourfolde  Meditation"  was  dedicated  like  Shakespeare's 
Sonnets  to  W.  H.,  whom  he  believes  to  have  been  merely  a  stationer's 
assistant. — Life  of  Shakespeare^  92. 


EVENING   MASS  27  I 

Chronicle  which  describes  William  the  Conqueror 
as  taking  "  by  right,  and  with  great  unright."  ^ 
It  is  astonishing  to  note  with  what  receptivity 
Shakespeare's  mind  retained  and  recorded  all  such 
undertones  of  traditional  English  thought  and 
expression. 

The  expression  "  Evening  Mass  "  in  "  Romeo  and 
Juliet"  iv.  i)  is  commonly  held  to  show  Shake- 
speare's rudimentary  ignorance  of  the  usages  of 
the  Catholic  Church,  and  is  regarded  as  a  strong 
argument  in  favour  of  his  Protestantism.  Various 
explanations  have  been  oft'ered  of  the  passage. 
The  late  Bishop  Clifford  showed^  that  the  term 
"  Mass "  was  used  indifferently  of  various  Church 
offices.  Another  correspondent  of  the  Tablet  ^  took 
the  word  as  a  synonym  for  "mess,"  and  gave 
arguments  in  support  of  this  reading.  The  words 
may,  however,  be  justified  in  their  ordinary  sense. 

First,  we  must  observe  "  that  in  this  play  *  even- 
ing ' "  means  afternoon,  and  no  more.  "  Is  it  good 
den?"  asks  the  nurse;  "Yes,"  says  Mercutio,  "the 
hand  of  the  dial  is  on  the  prick  of  noon  "  ("  Romeo 
and  Juliet,"  ii.  4).  Here  at  least  evening  begins  at 
twelve  o'clock.  Evening  mass,  then,  need  signify 
only  mass  said  after  noon. 

Next,  according  to  Liturgical  writers,  there  was 
great    latitude  in  ancient  times  as  to  the  hour  of 

^  Among  Ray's  proverbs  we  find  a  similar  expression :  "  He'll  Co 
justice,  right  or  wrong." 

«  TaUet,  vol.  lix.  28.  ^  Vol.  Ix.  23. 


2/2  THE    LOVE   PLAYS 

mass.  The  time  for  celebration  changed,  Strabo^ 
says,  with  the  character  of  the  feast.  It  might  be 
before  noon,  about  None,  sometimes  at  Vespers, 
and  sometimes  at  night.  And  Martene^  gives 
notice  of  solemn  masses  said  on  fast-days  at  three 
o'clock,  in  Lent  in  the  evening,  and  at  night  at 
Christmas,  Easter  Eve,  St.  John  Baptist,  and  days 
of  Ordination.  As  for  low  masses,  he  says,  "we 
think  they  were  said  at  any  hour  that  did  not  inter- 
fere with  the  high  mass."  Of  this  he  gives  several 
examples,  and  then  concludes:  "This  shows  that 
low  mass  might  be  said  at  any  hour — dawn,  8  a.m.  ; 
noon,  after  None  (3  p.m.),  evening,  and  after  Com- 
pline (night).  Even  to  this  day  (1699)  in  the 
church  of  St.  Denis,  the  Bishop  says  the  solemn 
mass  for  the  Kings  of  France  in  the  evening,  and 
in  the  Church  of  Rouen  on  Ascension  Day  mass 
is  often  said  in  the  evening." 

S.  Pius  ¥.(1566-72)  discountenanced  and  pro- 
hibited afternoon  and  evening  masses.  But  the 
isolation  of  the  English  Clergy,  owing  to  the  then 
difficulty  of  communication,  might  have  withheld 
from  them  the  knowledge  of  this  law  for  some  con- 
siderable time.^  It  was  so  slow  in  penetrating  Ger- 
many, that  it  had  to  be  enforced  by  various  councils, 
e.g.  Prague  in  1605,  Constance  in  1609,  Salzburg  in 

*  Dt  rebus  ecclesuisticus,  c.  23. 

*  De  antiquis  Ecclesite  ritibtis,  I.  c.  iii.  Art.  iii. 

=*  Navarr.  lib.  de  Orat.,  c.  21,  n.  31,  et  Enchirid.  Confess.,  c.  25, 
n.  85. 


LITURGICALLY   CORRECT  273 

1 6 16.  Cardinal  Bona  (1672)  seems  to  say  that  in 
his  time  high  mass  was  sung  in  Lent  and  on  Vigils 
at  3  P.M.,  instead  of  smiset,  the  ancient  time.^  And 
the  remarkable  thing  is  this,  that  according  to 
the  testimony  of  the  Liturgical  writer,  Friedrich 
Brenner,^  Verona  was  one  of  the  places  in  which 
the  forbidden  custom  lingered  even  to  our  own 
century.  After  quoting  the  precepts  against  it, 
he  says,  "  Notwithstanding,  evening  masses  are  still 
said  in  several  Italian  churches,  as  at  Vercelli  on 
Christmas  Eve  by  the  Lateran  Canons,  at  Venice 
by  the  same ;  moreover  in  the  Cathedral  of  Verona^ 
and  even  in  the  Papal  Chapel  at  Rome."  Since, 
then,  notwithstanding  the  Papal  prohibition,  the 
custom  of  having  evening  masses  lingered  in  Verona 
for  nearly  three  centuries  after  Shakespeare's  day, 
it  becomes  most  probable  that  in  his  time  it  was 
an  usual  occurrence  in  England.  But  whether  it 
were  a  usual  occurrence  in  England  or  not,  it  was 
certainly  so  in  Verona.  To  assert,  then,  as  so  many 
have  done,  that  Shakespeare's  mention  of  an  even- 
ing mass  argues  in  him  an  ignorance  of  Catholic 
customs,  is  to  convict  one's  self  of  the  very  ignorance 
falsely  ascribed  to  the  poet.  Afternoon  and  even- 
ing masses  were,  as  we  have  seen,  frequently  cele- 
brated. It  is,  however,  a  remarkable  coincidence 
that  in  Verona,  the  scene  of  Shakespeare's  evening 

^  Rer.  Liturg.y  lib.  ii.,  182-186  (Paris,  1672). 

'  Oeschichdiche    Darstellung     der     Verrichtung     der     Eucharistie 
(Bamberg,  1824),  vol.  iii.,  346. 

S 


274  THE   LOVE   PLAYS 

mass,  the  custom  of  celebrating  late  masses  lasted 
longer  than  in  any  other  city. 

Another  very  special  technical  use  of  a  word 
occurs  in  the  same  play — 

"  I  must  up-fill  this  osier  cage  of  ours 
With  baleful  weeds,  and  precious-juiced  flowers." 

— Borneo  and  Juliet,  ii.  3. 

"  Ours  "  is  not  for  the  rh3rme.  It  is  the  rule  of  the 
Franciscans,  who  have  all  property  in  common,  to 
call  whatever  article  of  this  property  they  use 
"  ours,"  not  "  mine,"  e.g.  "  I  must  put  on  our  shoes," 
"  I  must  go  to  our  cell." 

"All's  Well  that  Ends  Well"  is  supposed  not 
improbably  to  be  the  comedy  coupled  by  Meres 
with  "Love's  Labom-'s  Lost"  under  the  title  of 
"  Love's  Labour's  Won."  The  former  play  exhibits 
the  uselessness  of  a  Quixotic  asceticism  and  "  taffeta 
courtliness  in  love."  The  latter  shows  how  merit 
may  win  a  husband,  and  self-sacrificing  effort  secure 
its  beloved  object.  To  modern  notions  there  is 
something  indelicate  in  Helen's  forcing  herself  on 
a  man  averse  to  her  affections.  In  an  age,  how- 
ever, when  the  suitor  paid  his  addresses  not  to  his 
bride  but  to  her  father,  a  maiden  might  without 
unfitness  appeal  to  the  lord  paramount  of  her 
beloved  to  secure  the  hand  of  his  son.  The  Crown 
in  Shakespeare's  days  disposed  of  its  wards  as 
absolutely  as  the  king  disposed  of  Bertram. 

Bertram's  opposition    arises    not   only   from   his 


"all's  well  that  ends  well"      275 

pride,  but  from  the  fact  that  his  aflfections  were 
pre-engaged.  He  had,  we  learn  afterwards,  affixed 
fancy  for  Lafeu's  daughter  that  made  all  other 
objects  contemned,  warped  the  Hnes  of  all  other 
favours,  scorned  fair  colours,  or  only  esteemed  them 
as  stolen  from  the  one  beloved  object  (v.  3).  But 
this  fixed  fancy  proves  capable  of  gadding  after 
Diana,  and  of  being  fooled  by  Helen  herself  into 
making  sweet  use  of  what  it  hated  (iv.  4).  In 
Helen,  on  the  other  hand,  we  see  a  determination 
to  overcome,  to  which 

"  All  impediments  in  fancy's  course 
Are  motives  of  more  fancy  "  (v.  3). 

And  as  the  deaths  of  Romeo  and  Juliet  wash 
away  the  old  feud  of  their  houses,  so  does  Helen's 
supposed  death  call  into  life  the  love  of  Bertram, 
and  win  from  him  the  fixed  affection  which  he 
had  believed  himself  incapable  of  entertaining  for 
her. 

The  Clown  in  this  play  is  highly  individualised. 
He  is  "  a  shrewd  knave  and  unhappy "  (iv.  5 ),  one 
who  had  been  "a  wicked  creature"  (i.  3),  and  had 
become  a  cynic,  doubting  of  all  goodness,  and  accept- 
ing evil  as  his  destiny.  Into  his  mouth  Shakespeare 
puts  with  perfect  propriety  such  ideas  as  this — that 
Popery  and  Puritanism,  however  different  in  faith, 
are  one  in  this,  that  in  both  marriages  are  equally 
unhappy — "  Young  Charbon  {Chair e  honne)  the  Puri- 
tan, and  old  Poysam  (Poisson)  the  Papist,  howsome'er 


276  THE    LOVE   PLAYS 

their  hearts  are  severed  in  reHgion,  their  heads  are 
both  one."  Or  this,  that  "  the  nun's  lip  and  friar's 
mouth  "  are  a  pair  of  things  that  are  ordinarily  coupled 
together,  and  fit  each  other  naturally  (ii.  2).  It 
is  for  talk  like  this  that  his  mistress  calls  him  "  a 
foul-mouthed  and  calumnious  knave"  (i.  3).  Yet 
some  persons  have  argued  that  Shakespeare  in 
writing  these  passages  meant  to  show  that  he  was 
no  Papist.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  remarkable  that 
while  he  has  put  these  scurrilities  into  the  mouth 
of  the  unhappy  Clown,  the  words  of  the  Countess 
are  decisive  the  other  way.  When  she  first  learns 
that  her  son  has  renounced  his  wife,  she  says — 

"What  angel  shall 
Bless  this  unworthy  husband  ?     He  cannot  thrive 
Unless  her  prayers,  whom  Heaven  delights  to  hear 
And  loves  to  grant,  reprieve  him  from  the  wrath 
Of  greatest  justice"  (iii.  4). 

Whose  prayers  are  these  ?  Not  those  of  Helen,  but 
of  one  greater  than  any  angel,  whose  prayers  God 
delights  to  hear,  and  loves  to  grant.  This  is  exactly 
the  way  in  which  Catholics  speak  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin,  and  the  lines  will  not  apply  to  any  one  but 
her.  The  testimony  is  brief  but  decisive;  Shake- 
speare in  these  lines  aflSrms  distinctly,  but  not  con- 
tentiously,  one  of  the  most  characteristic  doctrines 
that  distinguishes  the  CathoHc  Church  from  the 
Protestant  communion. 

It  is  quite  in  accordance  with  this  that  the  line 


BELIEF   IN   THE    SUPEENATURAL  277 

of  self-sacrifice  adopted  by  Helen,  on  hearing  of 
her  husband's  devotion,  is  a  "  bare-foot  pilgrimage  " 
(iii.  4),  "  which  holy  undertaking  with  most  austere 
sanctimony  she  accomplished  "  (iv.  3 ).  Shakespeare's 
additions  to  this  play,  says  Professor  Morley,  are 
all  designed  to  bring  out  the  elevation  of  Helen's 
character  and  the  dignity  of  her  love.  The  Countess, 
Bertram's  mother,  is  introduced  to  testify  with  the 
zeal  of  a  noble  woman  to  her  praise,  and  the  old 
Lord  Lafeu  brings  his  experience  of  honourable 
age  in  testimony  of  her  worth.  As  regards  her 
religious  opinions,  the  language  the  poet  makes  his 
heroine  hold  regarding  her  professed  remedy  for 
the  king's  evil,  and  its  mode  of  operation,  is  some- 
what difficult  to  reconcile  with  the  assertion  that 
Shakespeare  was  an  Agnostic  or  disbelieved  in 
the  miraculous  or  supernatural.  While  expressly 
condemning  the  practice  of  ascribing  to  Heaven 
remedies  which  may  follow  from  merely  natural 
causes  (i.  2),  Helen  yet  bids  the  king  hope  for  his 
cure  in  the  following  words : — 

"  He  that  of  greatest  works  is  finisher, 
Oft  does  them  by  the  weakest  minister. 
Sol^Holy  Writ  in  babes  hath  judgment  shown, 
When  judges  have  been  babes  :  great  floods  have  flown 
From  simple  sources  ;  and  great  seas  have  dried, 
When  miracles  have  by  the  greatest  been  denied"  (ii.  i). 

So  Lafeu's  words,  on  hearing  that  the  cure  has  been 
effected,  seem  again  addressed  to  some  professors 
of  modern  science — "They  say  miracles  are  past; 


2/8  THE   LOVE   PLAYS 

and  we  have  our  philosophical  persons  to  make 
modern  and  familiar,  things  supernatural  and 
causeless  (i.e.  to  be  explained  by  no  natural  cause). 
Hence  it  is  that  we  make  trifles  of  terrors  (signs 
of  divine  omnipotence)  ensconcing  ourselves  into 
seeming  knowledge  when  we  shall  submit  our- 
selves to  an  unknown  fear  (i.e.  bow  our  head  and 
adore,  ii.  3)." 

In  the  "Taming  of  the  Shrew,"  Shakespeare 
makes  Petruchio  among  his  other  antics  knock  down 
the  priest  who  was  marrying  him,  kiss  the  bride  in 
church,  quaff  to  her  health  and  throw  the  sops  in 
the  sexton's  face.  It  would  be  difficult,  however,  to 
conclude  from  this  that  the  poet  himself  approved 
of  such  conduct,  even  when  done  in  subservience  to 
so  laudable  an  end  as  the  frightening  a  shrew  for 
the  purpose  of  taming  her  (iii.  2).  There  is  more 
meaning  in  the  passage  where  Gremio,  presenting 
Lucentio  to  Baptista  as  a  tutor  for  his  daughters, 
calls  him  "  a  young  scholar  that  hath  been  long 
studying  at  Rheims ;  cunning  in  Greek,  Latin,  and 
other  languages"  (ii.  i).  Rheims,  it  will  be  re- 
membered, was  then  the  seat  of  the  English  College 
from  which  the  greatest  number  of  Seminary  Priests 
was  sent  over  into  England.  Against  this  seminary 
legions  of  proclamations  and  placards  had  been 
issued,  warning  parents  not  to  allow  their  sons  to 
proceed  thither,  and  denouncing  the  doctrine  taught 
there.  It  was  little  short  of  impudence  in  Shake- 
speare to   choose  Rheims  for  the  pretended  alma 


ti 


MUCH   ADO   ABOUT   NOTHING"  2/9 


matei^  of  Lucentio,  the  gentleman,  though  not  the 
hero  of  his  drama. 

In  "  Much  Ado  about  Nothing "  we  have  another 
of  Shakespeare's  Friars,  whose  character  is  not  deve- 
loped like  that  of  Romeo's  Friar  Laurence,  but  who 
is  in  all  essential  points  from  the  same  stock.  The 
merciful  view  he  takes  of  Hero  from  the  first ;  his 
silence  during  the  altercations  of  her  accusers  and 
relations;  his  judgment  so  decisive  in  her  favour 
when  at  last  he  speaks,  and  his  ready  plans  and 
counsel  when  he  proposes  a  politic  trap  similar,  ex- 
cept in  its  results,  to  that  of  Friar  Laurence,  are  all 
points  of  resemblance  between  the  two  Friars.  It 
is  curious  that  the  resources  of  the  Friars  in  all  the 
three  plays,  where  the  plot  turns  upon  their  help, 
should  culminate  in  the  very  same  contrivance — a 
pretended  death.  Juliet's  sleeping  draught.  Hero's 
reported  death,  and  the  substitution  of  Ragozine's 
head  for  Claudio's  in  "  Measure  for  Measure,"  are 
all  variations  of  one  theme.  Perhaps  Shakespeare 
wished  to  defend  Friar  Laurence's  policy,  and  was 
determined  to  show  that  his  stratagem,  though  in 
Juliet's  case  a  failure,  was  a  good  policy  in  itself  and 
deserved  success.  If  some  such  simple  explanation 
of  the  curious  reiteration  of  the  Friars'  plots  be  un- 
acceptable, some  more  recondite  reason  might  be 
sought  in  the  region  of  Spenserian  allegory.  Here 
we  must  also  note  that  in  other  plots  which  turn  on 
a  temporary  death  or  absence  of  the  heroines,  an 
influence  analogous  to  that  of  a  Friar  is  supposed  to 


28o  THE   LOVE   PLAYS 

govern  them.  Thus  Helena  in  "  All's  Well "  gives 
out  that  she  is  making  a  bare-foot  pilgrimage  to  St. 
James  of  Compostella ;  and  Portia  in  the  "  Merchant 
of  Venice"  (v.  i),  during  her  husband's  absence, 
proclaims  that  she  "  doth  stray  about  by  holy  crosses, 
where  she  kneels  and  prays,"  accompanied  by  "  a 
holy  hermit  and  her  maid."  It  may  be  that  Shake- 
speare wishes  to  show  the  efficacy  even  of  a  temporary 
death  in  reconciling  and  reuniting  the  unravelled 
strands  of  life,  the  atoning  power  of  the  pity  ex- 
cited by  the  mere  idea  of  death,  in  the  case  of  Hero 
and  Helena,  just  as  the  deaths  of  Romeo  and  Juliet 
were  the  reconciliation  of  their  famihes.  In  all  this 
it  is  clear  that  Shakespeare  is  only  following  out  the 
Christian  scale  of  love,  and  speaking  of  a  lower  kind 
of  love  in  terms  that  are  only  applicable  in  their  full 
meaning  to  the  highest.  Hence,  perhaps,  the  reason 
why  he  surrounds  their  exhibition  with  the  sacred 
functions  of  religion. 

In  "  Twelfth  Night "  the  comedy  is  in  the  spirit 
of  the  "  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,"  or  the  Falstaffian 
scenes  of  the  historical  play.  Indeed  Sir  Toby  is 
in  some  respects  another  edition  of  FalstafF,  while 
Sir  Andrew  and  MalvoUo  remind  one  of  Simple,  or 
Silence  and  Shallow.  The  drama  is  supposed  to 
take  place  in  a  Catholic  country,  yet,  as  in  the 
"  Merry  Wives,"  the  religious  allusions  are  all  to  the 
manners  and  opinions  of  the  day,  which,  as  in  the 
other  comedy,  are  all  treated  without  the  shghtest 
semblance  of  respect.     The  most  important  character 


MALVOLIO   THE   PURITAN  28 1 

of  the  play  is  Malvolio  the  Puritan.^  Humble  and 
cringing  with  his  superiors,  Malvolio  is  churlish  and 
tyrannical  with  his  inferiors.  He  is  further  so  in- 
ordinately vain  that  he  falls  a  ready  victim  to  the 
plot  of  Maria  the  serving-maid.  The  manner  of 
his  nemesis,  confinement  as  a  possessed  person  in  a 
darkened  room,  is  an  evident  satire  on  a  case  of 
alleged  possession  in  a  Puritan  family  named  Starchie. 
The  case  is  mentioned  in  Harsnett's  "Puritan  and 
Popish  Impostures,"  and  was  of  considerable  noto- 
riety in  Shakespeare's  time. 

If  Malvolio  is  to  be  taken  as  a  representative 
Puritan,  he  is  certainly  made  ridiculous  as  a  gloomy, 
pompous,  sanctimonious  pedant.  It  is  thus  he  ap- 
pears in  the  well-known  dialogue  of  Toby  and  the 
Clown  with  Malvoho :  "  Dost  thou  think,  because 
thou  art  virtuous,  there  shall  be  no  more  cakes  and 
ale  ?  Yes,  by  St.  Anne,  and  ginger  shall  be  hot  in 
the  mouth  too"  (ii.  3).  So  again  when  Sir  Andrew 
says  that  if  he  thought  Malvolio  was  a  Puritan  he 
would  beat  him  Hke  a  dog,  we  have  an  expression 
of  the  popular  dislike  of  the  sect. 

The  Clown's  speech  when  he  puts  on  the  Curate's 
gown  (iv.  2)  is  not  very  complimentary  to  the 
clergy,  implying,  as  it  does,  their  gradual  change 
from  scholars  into  housekeepers  and  husbands. 
"  I'll  put  it  on,  I  will  dissemble  in  it ;  and  I  would 

1  We  cannot  agree  with  Mr.  Simpson,  who  thinks  that  the  poet 
in  his  treatment  of  this  character  intended  to  deal  tenderly  with 
that  sect. 


2  82  THE    LOVE   PLAYS 

I  were  the  first  that  ever  dissembled  in  such  a 
gown,  I  am  not  fat  enough  to  become  the  function 
well;  nor  lean  enough  to  be  thought  a  good  student: 
but  to  be  said,  an  honest  man  and  a  good  house- 
keeper, goes  as  fairly  as  to  say  a  careful  man  and  a 
great  scholar."  There  are,  besides,  passages  which 
seem  to  refer  to  the  poet's  private  experiences. 
For  instance  when  the  Clown  says  he  lives  by  the 
Church,  but  is  no  Churchman ;  for  his  house  stands 
by  the  Church  (iii.  i ) ;  or  when  Maria  talks  of 
Malvolio  being  "  cross-gartered  most  villainously,"  like 
"  a  pedant  that  keeps  school  in  the  Church."  Again, 
we  have  phrases  which  doubtless  spoke  to  con- 
temporaries, as  when  she  says  that  he  behaves  in 
a  way  that  "no  good  Christian  that  means  to  be 
saved  by  beheving  rightly"  could  ever  believe 
(iii.  2),  or  when  Sir  Andrew  would  "as  hef  be  a 
Brownist  as  a  poUtician." 

The  love  argument  of  the  play  is  the  same 
as  that  of  so  many  others ;  the  sudden  transfer 
of  the  fancy  from  one  object  to  another ;  of  OUvia 
from  Cesario  to  Sebastian,  of  Orsino  from  Olivia  to 
Viola. 

Olivia  in  the  following  speech  shows  the  rever- 
ence with  which  she  regarded  the  priest,  and  the 
importance  she  attached  to  his  presence  at  her 
marriage : — 

"  Oliv.  Now  go  with  me,  and  with  this  holy  man 
Into  the  chantry  by  :  there  before  him, 


a      A   a        XT/^XT        XTTiTT:,        Tm   " 


AS   YOU   LIKE   IT  283 

And  underneath  that  consecrated  roof, 
Plight  me  the  full  assurance  of  your  faith  ; 
That  my  most  jealous  and  too  doubtful  soul 
May  live  at  peace  "  (iv.  3). 

The  priest  subsequently  declares  the  indissoluble 
nature  of  the  bond  then  contracted,  and  expresses 
accurately  the  Catholic  doctrine  that  the  contracting 
parties  are  themselves  the  ministers  of  the  sacra- 
ment of  marriage,  and  that  the  priest  is  only  the 
appointed  witness. 

*'  A  contract  of  eternal  bond  of  love, 
Confirmed  by  mutual  joinder  of  your  hands, 
Attested  by  the  holy  close  of  lips, 
Strengthened  by  interchangement  of  your  rings, 
And  all  the  ceremony  of  this  compact 
Sealed  in  my  function,  by  my  testimony"  (v.  i). 

The  two  late  plays,  "  As  You  Like  It "  and  the 
"Winter's  Tale,"  though  real  comedies,  have  more 
of  the  tragic  element  about  them  than  any  of  those 
as  yet  referred  to.  The  pictures  of  the  court  of 
the  reigning  Duke,  and  of  the  home  of  the  un- 
natural brother  in  "  As  You  Like  It,"  are  drawn  with 
such  passionate  feeling,  that  they  seem  not  only 
to  be  wrung  from  the  poet's  own  heart,  but  to  be 
intended  to  go  straight  to  the  hearts  and  minds  of 
the  audience.  The  tyrant  to  whom  mistrust  is 
sufficient  cause  for  the  condemnation  of  a  man, 
and  mere  circumstance  of  birth  sufficient  motive 
of  mistrust,  was  a  picture  of  English  rulers  ap- 
plicable only  to  one  party  in  the  State.  Duke 
Frederick  says  to  Rosalind,  whom  he  banishes,  "  Let 


284  THE    LOVE   PLAYS 

it  suffice  thee  that  I  trust  thee  not,"  and  she  re- 
pHes,  "  Yet  your  mistrust  cannot  make  me  a  traitor," 
and  he  again  answers,  "  Thou  art  thy  father's  daugh- 
ter; there's  enough  "(i.  3).  Again,  Adam  says  to 
Orlando,  who  had  been  forced  to  fly  from  the  Duke 
for  the  same  reasons,  and  from  his  own  brother  for 
his  unkindness : — 

"  To  some  kind  of  men 
Their  graces  serve  them  but  as  enemies. 
.  .  .  your  virtues  .  .  . 
Are  sanctified  and  holy  traitors  unto  you. 
0,  what  a  world  is  this  when  what  is  comely 
Envenoms  him  that  bears  it ! "  (ii.  3). 

Both  these  speeches  must  have  reminded  the  audi- 
ence of  the  class  of  Englishmen  whom  the  law 
made  criminal  by  kind,  and  who  were  reckoned 
the  worse  subjects,  the  more  faithful  they  were  to 
their  profession.  In  this  sense  must  have  been 
understood  Orlando's  lament  over  the  departure  of 
the  antique  world,  when  duty,  not  recompense,  was 
the  motive  of  service  (ii.  3).  In  the  pastoral  life 
of  the  outlaws  in  the  forest  of  Arden  Shakespeare 
finds  the  real  remedy  for  the  falsehoods  of  court; 
and  this  idea  is  repeated  in  "  Cymbeline."  It  is  as 
if  the  poet  was  comforting  a  class  cut  off  from  all 
civil  functions  by  showing  them  that  their  loss  was 
gain,  and  that  their  moral  profit  was  more  than 
their  material  sacrifice.  In  the  t3rrannical  court, 
such  as  Shakespeare  describes  it  here,  even  the 
sacred  privileges  of  the  motley  were  suppressed — 


WISDOM   IN    FOOLS  285 

as  they  might  have  been  in  Macbeth's  gloomy 
castle.  The  fool  was  "whipped  for  taxation,"  and 
might  no  longer  speak  wisely  what  wise  men  did 
foohshly.  But  the  poet  found  that  nature  provided 
a  compensation — "  Since  the  little  wit  that  fools 
have  was  silenced,  the  little  foolery  that  wise  men 
have  makes  a  great  show"  (i.  2).  When  Claudius 
had  murdered  sleep  and  mirth  in  the  court  of 
Denmark,  the  best  fun  left  was  the  wisdom  of  the 
odious  old  fool  Polonius. 

In  the  forest,  Touchstone  has  all  the  privileges 
of  his  bauble ;  while  Jaques,  who  claims  the  same 
licence,  fails  to  obtain  it.  His  "  taxation  "  would  not 
be  the  froth  of  an  infirm  reason,  but  the  gall  of 
old  disappointments,  stored  up  in  the  brain  of  a 
philosopher,  and  vented  under  the  false  pretence 
of  extemporaneous  sallies.  The  keen  winds  of  the 
outlaw's  cave  were  not  the  proper  atmosphere  for 
a  croaker.  The  fun  of  the  forest  could,  however, 
make  game  of  hedge-parsons  like  Sir  Oliver  Mar- 
text,  of  lack-latin  priests,  and  of  the  fashionable 
travellers  whose  only  point  was  to  "  disable  all  the 
benefits  of  your  own  country,  be  out  of  love  with 
your  nativity,  and  almost  chide  God  for  making 
you  that  countenance  you  are  "  (iv.  i ).  Among  the 
bitters  of  the  outlaw  life  the  poet  enumerates  the 
being  forced  to  live  where  no  "bells  knolled  to 
church  " — quite  a  characteristic  of  the  state  of  the 
recusants,  who  were  forbidden  every  external  sign 
of  their  religion. 


286  THE    LOVE   PLAYS 

"  As  You  Like  It "  is  one  of  the  dramas  the  un- 
raveUing  of  which  is  again  due  to  a  Friar.  The 
usurping  Duke  hearing  of  the  rustic  court  kept  by 
his  banished  brother  in  the  forest,  marches  out  to 
entrap  him,  but  is  himself  entrapped. 

"  Meeting  with  an  old  religious  man, 
After  some  question  with  him,  was  converted, 
Both  from  his  enterprise,  and  from  the  world  "  (v.  4). 

The  banished  Duke  returns  to  his  own  court. 
Jaques  alone  changes  masters,  goes  to  Duke  Fred- 
erick, who  "  hath  put  on  a  reUgious  life,"  to  question 
and  to  observe,  because 

"  Out  of  the  convertites 
There  is  much  matter  to  be  heard  and  learned  "  (v.  4). 

According  to  Hunter,  "  convertite "  with  Shake- 
speare signifies  a  relapsed  person  reconciled,  and  is 
therefore  distinguished  from  "  convert,"  who  enters 
the  Church  from  without.  Thus  in  Act  v.  i  of 
"  King  John "  the  Legate  says  to  John  repentant, 
"  Since  you  are  a  gentle  convertite."  ^ 

Rosalind's  description  of  Orlando's  kiss  being  as 
full  of  sanctity  as  the  touch  of  "holy  bread,"  has 
given  rise  to  some  controversy.  Warburton  reads 
"  beard,"  but  the  former  expression,  however  forcible, 
would  in  its  sacramental  sense  be  thoroughly  in- 

1  "Illustrations  of  Shakespeare,"  ii.  14. 


ADAM   AND   CORIN  287 

telligible  to  a  Catholic.  The  sacred  elements  con- 
secrate by  their  contact.  The  joy  and  gratitude  of 
Oliver,  a  true  penitent  comparing  his  present  with 
his  past,  is  expressed  almost  in  the  same  terms  as 
Henry  V.  after  breaking  with  Falstaif — 

"  'Twas  I ;  but  'tis  not  I :  I  do  not  shame 
To  tell  you  what  I  was,  since  my  conversion 
So  sweetly  tastes,  being  the  thing  1  am." 

And  the  concluding  lines  of  the  play  express  the 
joy  of  the  angels  over  a  repentant  sinner. 

"  Then  is  there  mirth  in  heaven, 
When  earthly  things  made  even 
Atone  together." 

"  As  You  Like  It "  presents  us  with  a  view  of  the 
lower  orders  very  different  from  that  exhibited  in 
"  Henry  VI."  The  degenerate  rabble  of  Jack  Cade 
were  one  and  all  ignorant,  discontented,  embittered, 
fickle,  and  cruel.  Here  Adam  the  old  servant  and 
Corin  the  shepherd  are  very  models  of  dignity, 
loyalty,  religion,  and  self-sacrifice.  Adam  returns 
Oliver's  abuse  with  a  blessing.  He  follows  Orlando 
into  exile,  and  gives  him  his  hard-earned  savings, 
trusting  "Him  who  doth  the  ravens  feed"  for 
his  life  needs.  Famished  and  dying  through  his 
loyalty,  he  has  only  a  loving  farewell  for  his  kind 
master,  and  when  rescued  by  the  Duke  is  most 
thankful,  not  for  his  own  but  for  Orlando's  sake. 
Well  he  merits  his  master's  praise,  which  refers  him 


288  THE    LOVE   PLAYS 

to  an  order  of  things  now  past,  and  the  loss  of 
which  Shakespeare  never  ceases  to  regret. 

"  0,  good  old  man :  how  well  in  thee  appears 
The  constant  service  of  the  antique  world, 
When  service  sweat  for  duty,  not  for  need  "  (ii.  3). 

And  so  with  Corin.  He  has  known  what  love 
means,  shepherd  though  he  be,  and  he  can  open 
his  heart  to  give  what  he  has,  though  he  serves  a 
churlish  master,  who 

"  Little  seeks  to  find  the  way  to  heaven 
By  doing  deeds  of  hospitality  "  (ii.  4). 

Here,  by  the  way,  we  have  the  doctrine  of  merit 
laid  down  in  clear  terms.  Corin  can  meet  Touch- 
stone's quips  and  gibes  with  quiet  dignity,  and 
shows  his  refinement  in  declaring  that  vulgarity  only 
begins  in  aping  manners  unbecoming  a  man's  state. 
"Good  manners  at  the  court  are  as  ridiculous  in 
the  country,  as  the  behaviour  of  the  country  is 
most  mockable  at  the  court."  In  his  defence  of 
his  own  condition  he  manifests,  what  the  Christian 
alone  realises,  the  true  nobility  of  every  honest 
vocation.  "  Sir,  I  am  a  true  labourer ;  I  earn  what 
I  eat,  get  that  I  wear;  envy  no  man's  happiness, 
glad  of  other  men's  good,  content  with  my  harm  " 
(iii.  2). 

In  the  "Winter's  Tale"  the  treatment  of  royal 
jealousy  is  almost  as  tragical  as  in  "  Othello."  The 
manners    are    supposed    to    be    Pagan,    but    what 


"winter's  tale"  289 

religious  doctrines  appear  are  Tridentine  rather 
than  Olympian.  Thus  the  King  of  Sicily  describes 
his  own  and  his  friend's  boyish  days : 

''  We  knew  not 
The  doctrine  of  ill-doing,  nor  dreamed 
That  any  did.     Had  we  pursued  that  life, 
...  we  should  have  answered  Heaven 
Boldly,  '  Not  guilty ' — the  imposition  cleared  "  (i.  2). 

Original  sin,  he  seems  to  tell  us,  is  nothing  intrinsic 
to  our  nature,  it  is  an  "  imposition  "  inherited  by  our 
descent.  The  innocence  of  childhood  is  real  sinless- 
ness,  and  if  original  sin  is  once  cleared,  enables  the 
person  conscious  of  it  to  plead  boldly,  "  Not  guilty," 
at  God's  judgment-seat.  The  same  king  tells  his 
counsellor  that  he  has  imparted  to  him  the  things 
next  his  heart,  and  received  cleansing  from  his 
"  priest-like "  services,  and  departed  from  him  his 
"penitent  reformed"  (i.  2).  And  again,  thinking 
Hermione  dead,  "  has  said  many  a  prayer  upon  her 
grave"  (v.  3).  But  the  most  remarkable  instance  of 
Catholic  imagery  in  the  play  is  when  the  poet  goes 
out  of  his  way  to  describe  the  Oracle  of  Delphi. 
Now  it  must  be  remembered  that  Rome  was  the 
Delphi  of  mediaeval  Europe.  "  The  mystical  city," 
says  Mr.  Bryce,  "which  was  to  mediaeval  Europe 
more  than  Delphi  had  been  to  the  Greek,  or  Mecca 
to  the  Islamite,  the  Jerusalem  of  Christianity."^ 
How  then  does  he  speak  of  the  mystical  city  ? — all 

^  '*  Holy  Roman  Empire,"  2nd  edition,  299. 

T 


290  THE    LOVE   PLAYS 

things  combine  in  one  grand  harmony — the  climate, 
the  air,  the  Temple  much  surpassing  the  common 
praise  it  bears.     But  says  Cleomenes : — 

"  I  shall  report, 
For  most  it  caught  me,  the  celestial  habits 
(Methinks  I  so  should  term  them)  and  the  reverence 
Of  the  grave  wearers.     O  the  sacrifice 
How  ceremonious,  solemn,  and  unearthly- 
It  was  in  *  the  offering ' "  (iii.  i). 

If  the  idea  of  the  sacrifice  of  the  mass  be  here 
indirectly  suggested,  the  language  used  is  worth 
contrasting  with  that  of  the  Thirty-nine  Articles, 
where  that  sacrifice  is  termed  "  a  blasphemous  fable 
and  a  dangerous  deceit "  (Art.  xxxi.).  Puritan 
(iv.  2)  is  used  for  soprano,  and  a  soprano  Puritan 
who  sings  psalms  to  hornpipes  signifies  a  Puritan 
in  nothing  but  his  treble  pipes. 

The  "Tempest"  we  suppose  to  be  the  last  of 
Shakespeare's  comedies.  In  it  he  seems  to  take 
his  leave  of  the  stage  and  to  renounce  his  potent 
sway  over  nature,  history,  and  men's  hearts.  He 
bids  farewell  to  the  elves  and  demi-puppets. 

"  By  whose  aid, 
Weak  masters  though  ye  be,  I  have  bedimmed 
The  noon-tide  sun,  called  forth  the  mutinous  winds, 
And  'twixt  the  green  sea  and  the  azure  vault 
Set  mutinous  war  :  to  the  dread  rattling  thunder 
Have  I  given  fire,  and  rifted  Jove's  stout  oak 
With  his  own  bolt :  the  strong  based  promontory 
Have  I  made  shake,  and  by  the  spurs  plucked  up 
The  pine  and  cedar  :  graves  at  my  command 


291 

Have  waked  their  sleepers,  oped  and  let  them  forth 

By  my  so  potent  art.     But  this  rough  magic 

I  here  abjure,  and,  when  I  have  required 

Some  heavenly  music  .  .  . 

.  .  .  I'll  break  my  staff, 

Bury  it  certain  fathoms  in  the  earth, 

And  deeper  than  did  ever  plummet  sound, 

I'll  drown  my  book." 

These  exploits  are  too  general  to  refer  only  to 
Prospero's  doings  in  the  play.  They  seem  to  allude 
to  the  whole  cycle  of  his  dramas,  to  the  storm  of 
passions  he  has  swayed,  to  our  ancient  sovereigns 
whom  he  has  raised  from  their  graves,  to  make  the 
age  "joy  in  their  joy  and  tremble  at  their  rage." 

"  While  the  plebeian  imp  from  lofty  throne 
Creates  and  rules  a  world,  and  works  upon 
Mankind  by  secret  engines."  ^ 

He  has,  he  tells  us,  worked  miracles  with  weak 
instruments,  but  he  has  done.  He  is  retiring  to 
Milan,  to  his  midland  home  in  Warwickshire,  where 
"  every  third  thought  shall  be  my  grave  "  (v.  i ). 

The  epilogue  spoken   by  Prospero   continues  in 
the  same  solemn  strain — 

"  Now  I  want 
Spirits  to  enforce,  art  to  enchant, 
And  my  ending  is  despair. 
Unless  I  be  relieved  by  prayer. 
Which  pierces  so  that  it  assaults 
Mercy  itself,  and  frees  from  faults. 
As  you  from  crimes  would  pardoned  be, 
Let  your  indulgence  set  me  free." 

*  Verses  on  Shakespeare,  by  I.  M.  S.,  in  the  second  folio. 


292  THE   LOVE   PLAYS 

From  the  midst  of  this  unearthly  sunset  his  voice 
comes  for  the  last  time  to  the  rulers  in  recom- 
mendation of  mercy.  Prospero,  by  a  great  effort, 
throws  off  all  desire  of  revenge  against  his  usurping 
brother  and  the  traitors  who  have  wronged  him. 
He  is  moved  by  Ariel's  pity,  and  says — 

"  Hast  thou,  which  art  but  air,  a  touch,  a  feeling 
Of  their  affliction,  and  shall  not  myself. 
One  of  their  kind,  that  relish  all  as  sharply 
Passion  as  they,  be  kindlier  moved  than  thou  art  ? 
Though  with  their  high  wrongs  I  am  struck  to  the  quick, 
Yet  with  my  nobler  reason  'gainst  my  fury 
Do  I  take  part :  The  rarer  action  is 
In  virtue  than  in  vengeance  :  they  being  penitent. 
The  sole  drift  of  my  purpose  doth  extend 
Not  a  frown  further  "  (v.  i.). 

The  play  presents  two  Dantesque  images,  Ariel  con- 
fined in  a  cloven  pine,  an  idea  repeated  in  Pros- 
pero's  threat — 

"  If  thou  more  murmurest,  I  will  rend  an  oak, 
And  peg  thee  in  his  knotty  entrails,  till 
Thou  hast  howled  away  twelve  winters  "  (i.  2). 

Both  passages  recall  the  forest  of  suicides,  where 
souls  are  imprisoned  in  trees  inhabited  by  harpies 
{Inferno,  xiii.).  Again,  in  Stephano,  Trinculo,  and 
Caliban  immersed 

"  I'  the  filthy  mantled  pool  beyond  your  cell. 
There  dancing  up  to  the  chins,  that  the  foul  lake 
O'erstunk  their  feet"  (iv.  i), 

we  see  a  reproduction  of  the  violent  "  naked  and 


PRAYER   TO    OUR    LADY  293 

wild  mire  o'erspread  in  the  Stygian  marsli"  {Inferno, 
vii.  1 1  5 ),  or  of  "  the  sullen  "  "  engulphed  in  boiling 
slime,  carr3dng  a  foul  and  lazy  mist  within "  (Ibid., 
vii.  I  24).  And  in  the  description  of  the  power  of 
Miranda's  prayer — 

"  You  have  not  sought  her  help  ;  of  whose  soft  grace 
For  the  like  loss  I  have  her  sovereign  aid, 
And  rest  content"  (v.  i), 

we  have  an  echo  of  St.  Bernard's  prayer  to  Our 
Lady — 

"  So  mighty  art  thou,  Lady,  and  so  great, 
That  he  who  grace  desireth  and  comes  not 
To  thee  for  aidence,  fain  would  have  desire 
Fly  without  wings." — Paradiso,  xxxii.  16. 

In  Ferdinand's  love  being  tested  by  hard  penance 
and  the  power  of  a  loved  object  to  render  sweet  an 
otherwise  odious  and  bitter  task,  we  find  principles 
already  noted,  repeated.  Prospero's  grave  warning 
of  the  reverence  to  be  paid  to  Miranda  till 

"All  sanctimonious  ceremonies  may 
With  full  and  holy  rite  be  ministered," 

and  Ferdinand's  promise  to  respect  his  trust,  mani- 
fest again  the  sanctity  in  the  poet's  eyes  of  the 
marriage  sacrament,  and  the  somewhat  baser  teach- 
ing in  "  Measure  for  Measure  "  must  be  corrected  by 
the  lessons  here  inculcated.  The  whole  play  is  in 
tone  very  solemn.  The  last  thoughts  with  which 
Shakespeare  steps  from  the  stage   are  forgiveness, 


294  THE    LOVE   PLAYS 

meditation  of  death,  and  prayer — thoughts  quite 
out  of  tune  with  the  triumphant  and  persecuting 
Protestantism  of  his  age. 

Our  view  of  the  "  Tempest "  as  Shakespeare's  last 
production  is  not  inconsistent  with  Hunter's  highly 
probable  identification  of  the  play  with  the  "  Love's 
Labour's  Won"  mentioned  by  Meres  in  1596.  We 
have  only  to  suppose  that  Shakespeare  revived  it 
in  161 1,  and  again  perhaps  in  161 3  for  the 
wedding  of  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  each  time  with 
corrections  and  augmentations,  which  have  left  it 
as  it  was  published  in  1623.  The  epilogue  and  the 
burial  of  the  wand  may  still  be  the  swan-song  of  the 
great  poet. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

TRAGEDIES. 

We  come  now  to  the  last  division  of  Shakespeare's 
plays — his  tragedies.  These  may  be  classed  apart, 
because  their  purpose  is  rather  to  develop  the 
central  character  than  to  illustrate  moral  and 
political  theories  such  as  those  discussed  in  the 
precediQg  plays.  We  will  begin  with  "  Hamlet," 
apparently  Shakespeare's  most  valued  child,  named 
after  his  own  son,  whom  he  had  lost  in  1596,  sub- 
mitted to  recensions,  and  always  kept  open  for  new 
additions  and  alterations.^ 

^  The  various  theories  in  the  interpretation  of  Hamlet's  character 
form  a  literature  of  themselves,  the  discussion  of  which  would  be 
beyond  our  present  scope.  It  is  suflScient  here  to  note  that  Hamlet, 
according  to  Dr.  Plumptre,  in  his  conviction  of  "the  vanity  of 
life,"  suggests  a  parallelism  with  Ecclesiastes.  ^  Mr.  Jacob  Feis- 
believes  that  "Hamlet"  was  composed  to  reproduce  the  position 
assumed  by  Montaigne  in  his  essays,  that  of  a  Catholic  in  religious 
conviction  and  of  a  sceptic  in  philosophy,  and  to  show  that  scepti- 
cism is  the  result  of  Catholicism.  Hamlet,  like  Montaigne,  ac- 
cording to  this  author,  was  trained  in  the  Catholic  faith,  but  being 
sent  to  Wittenberg,  the  home  of  Lutheranism,  he  there  learned 
first  to  try  to  think  for  himself,  and  to  grapple  with  the  mysteries 
of  life.     The  soul-enslaving  faith,  however,  to  which  he  still  clung, 

^  Kolcheth,  Appendix,  231  et  seq. 

2  "Shakespeare  and  Montaigne,"  81,  82,  85.     1884. 


296  TKAGEDIES 

Hamlet  presents  a  disposition  naturally  open, 
developed  into  a  character  of  impenetrable  reserve. 
The  dread  charge  laid  upon  him  necessitates  the 
habitual  concealment  of  his  thoughts  and  feelings; 
and  this  he  endeavours  to  effect  by  exaggerating 
them  to  the  extent  that  his  reason  seems  impaired. 
In  his  advice  to  the  players  Hamlet  condemns  as  a 
fault,  according  to  Shakespeare's  usual  irony,  the 
very  practice  he  himself  pursues.  As  the  player,  by 
tearing  a  passion  to  tatters,  and  overstepping  the 
modesty  of  nature,  offends  his  audience  instead  of 
winning  their  sympathies,  so  did  Hamlet  aim  at 
deception  by  his  very  excess  of  truth.  To  make 
men  sceptical  he  gives  them  too  much  evidence. 
He  convinces  all  observers  that  he  has  lost  his 
reason,  by  exhibiting  too  much  sense.  His  own 
mental  disturbance  arose  from  an  over  subtle,  per- 

rendered  him  powerless  to  do  so,  and  his  tortured  conscience  was  the 
necessary  result.  Father  Darlington,  S.J.  ,^  on  the  other  hand,  con- 
siders that  Shakespeare  intentionally  sent  Hamlet  to  Wittenberg 
to  portray  in  his  perplexed  soul  the  result  of  the  false  Platonism 
and  fatalism  there  inculcated.  Mr.  Simpson,  it  will  be  seen, 
regards  Hamlet  as  the  presentation  of  a  highly  sensitive  mind 
distraught  with  the  scruples  which  to  such  a  disposition  would 
necessarily  arise  from  the  dread  retributive  task  imposed  upon  him. 
Mr.  Simpson  finds  the  indications  of  Catholicism  in  the  religious 
allusion  occurring  throughout  the  play  rather  than  in  any  special 
delineation  of  Hamlet's  character.  Wittenberg,  he  says,  became 
the  cant  name  for  any  university,  partly  because  of  its  signification, 
"  the  place  where  wit  grows,"  as  Chettle  has  it  in  Hoffman,  partly  as 
the  school  of  Faustus,  and  perhaps  of  Luther.  Nash  was  accused 
of  meaning  Oxford  by  Wittenberg  in  the  life  of  Jack  Wilton. 

^  Nexo  Ireland  Review,  January  1898. 


THE    GHOST  297 

plexed  conscience.  The  general  principles  of  morals 
and  religion  he  never  questions.  His  difficulty  lay- 
in  their  application  in  his  strange  circumstances. 
After  having  seen  and  conversed  with  his  father's 
spirit,  he  still  refuses  to  own  that  any  traveller  ever 
returned  from  the  other  world.  He  thinks  it  may 
be  the  devil.  Even  after  the  conduct  of  the  king  at 
the  play  had  proved  the  truth  of  the  ghost's  story, 
he  was  still  doubtful  as  to  which  world  the  spirit 
belonged ;  his  father  was  cut  off  with  all  his  crimes 
broad  blown. 

"  And  how  his  audit  stands  who  knows  save  heaven  ? 
But  in  our  circumstance  and  course  of  thought 
'Tis  heavy  with  him  "  (iii.  3). 

The  ghost  had  indeed  most  distinctly  said  that  he 
was  safely  landed  in  Purgatory. 

"  I  am  thy  father's  spirit 
Doomed  for  a  certain  term  to  walk  the  night, 
And  for  the  day  confined  to  fast  in  fires 
Till  the  foul  crimes  done  in  my  days  of  nature 
Are  burnt  and  purged  away"  (i.  5). 

But  then,  how  could  a  blest  spnit — "canonised 
bones"  implies  this  (i.  4)— as  he  had  at  first  con- 
sidered him,  so  fiercely  inculcate  revenge  ? 

"  Eevenge  his  foul  and  most  unnatural  murder  "  (i.  5). 

Yet  Hamlet  at  once  embraces  the  commission, 
though  it  is  so  contrary  to  his  whole  being  that 
he  feels  it  must  utterly  change  him,  and  wipe  out 


298  TRAGEDIES 

from  the  table  of  his  memory  "all  trivial  fond 
records,  all  saws  of  books,  all  forms,  all  impres- 
sions of  youth  and  observation  "  (i.  5 ) ;  but  this  was 
easier  to  promise  than  to  perform.  As  soon  as  his 
first  passion  cools  he  is  overwhelmed  with  the 
difficulty  of  the  problem  set  him. 

"  The  time  is  out  of  joint !     0  !  cursed  spite 
That  ever  I  was  born  to  set  it  right"  (i.  5). 

For  he  is  a  man  who  could  act  only  in  the  mad 
whirl  of  passion,  or  in  the  full  conviction  of  reason ; 
and  both  conditions  were  enormously  difficult  to  one 
of  his  character.  His  conduct  from  this  moment  is 
devoted  to  the  problem  of  executing  his  father's 
/  commands  either  in  a  paroxysm  of  excitement  or 
with  a  conviction  fiilly  formed.  To  inflame  his 
passion  and  brace  his  nerves  for  action  he  sedu- 
lously cultivates  his  inner  germ  of  madness,  and 
strips  himself  unsparingly  of  every  other  affection. 
To  form  his  conscience  he  sifts  to  the  uttermost  the 
veracity  of  the  ghost,  who,  he  says, 

"  May  be  the  devil :  and  the  devil  hath  power 
To  assume  a  pleasing  shape  :  yea,  and  perhaps 
Out  of  my  weakness  and  my  melancholy — 
As  he  is  very  potent  with  such  spirits — 
Abuses  me  to  damn  me.     I'll  have  grounds 
More  relative  than  this  "  (ii.  2). 

His    speech    when    he    finds    the    king    praying 
iii.    3)  shows  that   though    now    convinced   of  the 


A   PERPLEXED    CONSCIENCE  299 

ghost's  veracity,  he  yet  doubted  the  rectitude  of  his  \ 
coraraand.  Revenge  is  measure  for  measure ;  eye 
for  eye,  tooth  for  tooth.  To  send  a  murderer  to 
heaven  was  no  revenge  for  the  murdered  man  who 
had  been  sent  to  hell.  Hamlet  had  clearly  thought 
out  the  terms  of  the  command ;  and  the  very  | 
frightfulness  of  the  conclusion  explains  and  justifies 
his  inability  to  fulfil  it  in  practice.  He  fears  the 
canon  which  the  Eternal  has  fixed  against  slaughter, 
and  the  future  consequences  of  its  transgression. 
The  native  hue  of  his  resolution  "  is  sicklied  o'er " 
with  the  pale  cast  of  their  reiie^tea  rays.  The 
currents  of  his  enterprise  are  diverted,  and  his  re- 
solve, but  now  unalterably  fixed,  fades  into  a  sterile 
velleity. 

After  all  the  preparation  he  had  made,  it  would  \ 
only  be  congruous  to  execute  justice  upon  the  king  \ 
in  a  public  and  judicial  manner,  as  in  fact  it  was, 
though  through  an  accident,  finally  accomplished. 
To  slay  him  as  a  mere  assassin  was  repugnant  to 
his  views,  and  to  kill  him  at  his  private  devotions, 
besides  being  liable  to  the  objections  which  he 
states,  might  wear  a  sacrilegious  aspect,  like  killing 
a  man  in  church,  and  was  a  deed  possible  for 
Laertes,  but  not  for  Hamlet  (iv.  7). 

His  great  soliloquies  point  to  these  two  difii- 
culties.  The  wonderful  "  To  be,  or  not  to  be " 
exhibits  the  vain  struggle  between  the  desire  to 
escape  from  his  sea  of  troubles  by  death  and  the 
voice  of  conscience  forbidding  the  act.     The  almost 


300  TRAGEDIES 

equally  powerful  "  0 !  what  a  rogue  and  peasant 
slave  am  I,"  expresses  Hamlet's  sense  of  his  own 
apathy,  the  weakness  of  his  passions,  or  the  diffi- 
culty of  maintaining  them  in  a  state  of  excite- 
ment necessary  for  action.  And  the  speech  (iv.  4), 
"  How  all  occasions  do  inform  against  me,"  is 
another  protest  against  the  dulness  of  his  passions, 
and  the  slow,  methodical  march  of  his  critical 
intellect,  and  its  therefore  sluggish  response  to  the 
double  "excitement  of  his  reason  and  his  blood." 
This  speech  shows  the  character  of  his  mind.  He 
is  no  Abraham,  to  accept  without  question  the  com- 
mand to  slay  his  son.  Hamlet  would  have  promised 
to  obey  one  moment,  and  the  next  would  have  said 
that  God  could  not  contradict  Himself,  and  denied 
the  authority  of  the  bidder.  His  scruples  spring,  as 
has  been  said,  from  a  perplexed  conscience. 

If  Shakespeare   had  been  blamed  for  making  a 

blessed  soul  in  Purgatory  cry  out  for  revenge,  he 

might    have  shown  the  objector  the  text  in   the 

Apocalypse  which  tells  of  the  souls  under  the  altar 

crying  out,  "  How  long,   0  Lord,  dost    Thou   not 

avenge  our  blood ! "  or  if  he  had  been  blamed  for 

exacting  this  vengeance,  not  by  judicial  authority 

i  but  by  a  private  hand,  he  might  have  shown  the 

impossibility  of  a  legal,  public   process,  and   have 

;  pointed  out  that   Hamlet,  as  the   legitimate  king, 

I  was  the  proper  person  in  whom  both  the  right  and 

I  the  duty  of  exacting  the  punishment  due   to   the 

/  murderer,  tyrant,  and  usurper  were  vested. 


THE   FINAL   RESOLVE  30I 

Hamlet  was  aware  that  his  hesitation  might  be 

"  Some  craven  scruple 
Of  thinking  too  precisely  on  the  event, 
A  thought  which,  quartered,  hath  but  one  part  wisdom 
And  even  three  parts  coward  "  (iv.  4). 

But  wisdom  or  cowardice,  it  was  ingrained,  and  he 
felt  that  he  could  not  tear  the  scruple  from  his 
soul.  It  was  not  till  his  return  from  England 
with  the  proofs  that  the  king  had  tried  to  get  him 
murdered  there,  that  he  deliberately  and  finally 
made  up  his  mind  to  do  the  deed.  He  had, 
indeed,  once  roused  himself  to  a  sudden  paroxysm 
of  anger,  and  had  killed  Polonius,  whom  he  had 
taken  for  the  king;  and  on  his  return  from 
England  he  had  found  that  he  was  further  steeped 
in  blood  than  he  had  intended  to  be.  The  altera- 
tion of  the  despatch  to  the  King  of  England,  and 
the  substitution  of  the  names  of  Rosencrantz  and 
Guildenstern  for  his  own,  was  not  a  final  and  un- 
alterable act  till  he  had  boarded  the  pirate  ship  and 
was  carried  away.  While  he  was  with  them  he 
might  always  make  another  change,  or  interfere  in 
some  other  way  with  its  execution.  But  once 
separated  from  them  the  deed  was  irrevocable ;  and 
the  considerations  by  which  he  justified  it  to  his 
conscience,  helped  him  to  make  his  final  resolu- 
tion to  kill  the  king.  Added  to  this,  the  time  left 
for  deliberation  was  but  short.  It  must  be  done 
before  the  messengers  could  return  from  England. 


302  TRAGEDIES 

It  was  now,  not  then  so  much  a  question  of  revenge 
or  of  public  poHcy  as  of  self-preservation,  and  the 
last  consideration  mainly  influences  him.  After 
sajring  that  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern  stand 
not  near  his  conscience,  because  they  "made  love 
to  the  employment,  and  their  defeat  is  their  own 
fault,"  he  speaks  of  the  king. 


Does  it  not,  tliink'st  thee,  stand  me  now  upon — 

He  that  hath  killed  my  king  and  whored  my  mother. 

Popped  in  between  the  election  and  my  hopes, 

Thrown  out  the  angle  for  my  proper  life, 

And  with  such  cozenage — is't  not  perfect  conscience 

To  quit  him  with  this  arm  ?  and  is't  not  to  be  damned 

To  let  this  canker  of  our  nature  come 

For  further  evil  ? 

Hor.  It  must  be  shortly  known  from  England 
"What  is  the  issue  of  the  business  there. 

Ham.  It  will  be  short :  the  interview  is  mine, 
And  a  man's  life  no  more  than  to  say  '  One ' "  (v.  2). 


But  we  anticipate.  If  Hamlet  is  to  undertake 
the  task,  he  must  nerve  himself  for  it.  All  other 
passions,  all  other  excitements  must  be  subject  to 
this  one  end.  This  one  end  must  be  now  his 
primitive  love,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  else.  Such 
is  the  doctrine  of  Shakespeare  as  we  have  seen 
in  his  sonnets.  There  can  be  but  one  sovereign 
love  in  man;  all  other  loves  are  reduced  to  mere 
adjuncts  of  this;  but  in  this  all  lesser  loves  re- 
vive to  a  new  life,  all  contribute  their  strength 
to   swell   the  fulness  of  the_  chief  love,  till  it  has 


OPHELIA  303 

devoured   and    assimilated   all   lesser   passions,  and 
turned  them  into  its  own  substance. 

"  Thou  art  tlie  grave  where  buried  love  doth  live, 
Hung  with  the  trophies  of  my  lovers  gone, 
Who  all  their  parts  of  me  to  thee  did  give  ; 
That  due  of  many  now  is  thine  alone  : 
Their  images  I  loved  I  view  in  thee, 
And  thou,  all  they,  hast  all  the  all  of  me."  ^ 

— Sonnet  xxxi. 

Hamlet  has  enough  clear  reason  to  see  that  he 
must  give  up  Ophelia,  and  his  heart  prompts  him 
to  do  so  in  the  way  least  wounding  to  her  feelings. 
He  might  efifect  his  purpose  by  convincing  her  of 
the  existence  of  some  secret  insuperable  obstacle 
on  his  side  to  their  union.  The  sage  advice  of 
Laertes  to  his  sister,  backed  by  the  injunctions  of 
Polonius  to  return  all  Hamlet's  letters,  give  him 
an  opportunity  of  separation  which  a  less  per- 
fect gentleman  would  have  snatched  at.  But  he 
cannot  drop  Ophelia  in  this  way.  She  must  be 
made  to  realise  that  he  is  not  the  kind  of  man 
for  her,  that  her  only  course  is  to  obliterate,  if  not 
her  love,  at  least  her  election  of  him,  and  that 
her  marriage  with  him  is  impossible.  Hence  his 
behaviour  to  her.  His  great  parting  in  dumb- 
show,  described  by  her  (ii.  i),  in  which  he  took  a 
passionate  farewell,  exhibiting  traces  of  madness 
which  she,  tutored  by  Polonius,  misinterprets  as  the 

1  •*  And  thou,  all  they,"  signifies  "  Thou  art  to  me  now  all  they 
once  were." 


304  TRAGEDIES 

effects  of  his  love,  was  in  reality  his  act  of  renun- 
ciation. After  this,  when  she  is  used  by  Polonius 
as  a  mere  bait  to  get  the  truth  out  of  Hamlet,  he 
treats  her  as  one  quite  estranged !  His  mother's 
shame  has  changed  his  opinion  about  all  women. 
He  did  love  Ophelia  once,  and  traces  of  it  remain, 
as  is  seen  in  his  desire  for  her  prayers.  But  now 
the  only  advice  he  has  to  give  her  is  to  go  to  a 
nunnery.  She  is  not  to  think  of  him.  He  is  too 
evil  for  her.  He  is  "  very  proud,  revengeful,  ambi- 
tious, with  more  offences  at  his  beck  than  he  has 
thoughts  to  put  them  in,  imagination  to  give  them 
shape,  or  time  to  act  them  in."  And  besides,  he 
has  renounced  womankind,  for  they  only  make 
fools  of  men  (iii.  i).  Later  on,  at  the  play  before 
the  king,  he  speaks  to  her  with  a  coarseness  inten- 
tionally revolting,  and  which  would  have  revolted 
her  had  she  believed  him  sane.  But  this  same 
coarseness  finally  convinced  her  of  his  madness, 
exhibiting,  as  it  seemed  to  do,  the  ruin  of  his 
sovereign  reason  and  more  sovereign  heart,  and 
was  essentially  the  cause  of  her  own  unfeigned 
madness  (iii.  2).  This  too  explains  the  corre- 
sponding coarseness  in  the  scraps  of  old  songs  she 
sings  in  her  lunacy.  In  this  most  subtle  manner, 
the  cause  of  her  lunacy  is  shown.  Her  father's 
death  crushes  her  as  a  fact.  But  Hamlet's  mad- 
ness and  the  consequent  degradation  of  his  mind 
has  become  to  her  a  contagion,  an  atmosphere,  a 
new  vitiated  life.      She  is  degraded  in  and  with 


HAMLET   AND   BRUTUS  305 

him.  Her  reason  is  buried  in  the  same  grave 
where  she  sees  his  entombed.  After  her  death 
Hamlet  can  exhibit  all  the  reality  of  his  aifection, 
and  declare  with  truth  "forty  thousand  brothers 
could  not,  with  all  their  quantity  of  love,  make  up 
my  sum"  (v.  i). 

Hamlet's  character  is,  in  fact,  the  most  exhaus- 
tive study  of  Brutus'  generalised  observation  in 
"Julius  Caesar"  (ii.  i). 

"  Between  the  acting  of  a  dreadful  thing 
And  the  first  motion,  all  the  interim  is 
Like  a  phantasma,  or  a  hideous  dream  ; 
The  Genius  and  the  mortal  instruments 
Are  then  in  council ;  and  the  state  of  man 
Like  to  a  little  kingdom,  suffers  then 
The  nature  of  an  insurrection." 

There  is  another  speech  of  Brutus  which  will 
throw  further  light  on  Hamlet's  character.  We 
have  already  supposed  that  Hamlet  wished  to  im- 
part a  kind  of  solemn  judicial  character  to  his 
father's  revenge.  This  appears  rather  from  the 
preparation  he  makes  for  it,  and  his  exclusive  de- 
votion to  this  one  object,  than  from  anything  that 
he  says.  It  is  apparently  the  sense  of  the  dispro- 
portion between  this  all-embracing  preparation,  and 
the  cowardly  secret  performance  of  stabbing  the 
king  at  his  prayers,  that  prompts  Hamlet  to  make 
that  curdling  "  Now  might  I  do  it  pat "  (iii.  3).  He 
wishes  to  do  the  thing  solemnly,  judicially,  sacrifi- 
cially,  with  due  intensity  of  thought  and  complication 


306  TRAGEDIES 

of  circumstance.  The  daggers  that  he  uses  he  wants 
to  be  balanced  by  the  daggers  that  he  utters.  The 
judicial  sentence  is  with  him  as  important  as  the 
execution.  His  mother  indeed  is  only  to  be  sentenced, 
not  executed. 

"  Soft,  now  to  my  mother. 

0  heart,  lose  not  thy  nature  ;  let  not  ever 
The  soul  of  Nero  enter  this  firm  bosom, 
Let  me  be  cruel,  not  unnatural : 

1  will  speak  daggers  to  her,  but  use  none  ; 
My  tongue  and  soul  in  this  be  hypocrites  ; 
Now  in  my  words  soever  she  be  shent, 

To  give  them  seals  never,  my  soul,  consent !"  (iii.  2). 

Now  it  is  exactly  this  solemn  judicial  feeling  which 
Brutus  is  careful  to  impress  upon  his  fellow-con- 
spirators. 

"  Let  us  be  sacrificers,  but  not  butchers,  Caius  .  .  . 
Let's  kill  him  boldly,  but  not  wrathfully  ; 
Let's  carve  him  as  a  dish  fit  for  the  gods. 
Not  hew  him  as  a  carcase  fit  for  hounds  ; 
And  let  our  hearts,  as  subtle  masters  do. 
Stir  up  their  servants  to  an  act  of  rage. 
And  after  seem  to  chide  them." — Julius  Ccrsary  ii.  i. 

Claudius  was  but  carrion  for  hounds  ;  in  other 
respects  the  feeling  of  Brutus  seems  the  counter- 
part of  Hamlet's,  and  the  key  for  comprehending  its 
acts.  Othello  strives  in  like  manner  to  maintain 
the  solemn  judicial  feeling;  he  says  to  Desdemona 
just  before  killing  her — 

"  0  perjured  woman,  thou  dost  stone  my  heart, 
And  makest  me  call  what  1  intend  to  do 
A  murder,  which  I  thought  a  sacrifice." 

— OtJiellOf  V.  2. 


SHAKESPEARE  S    VIEW    OF   CONSPIRACY       307 

Hamlet  is  a  conspirator,  urged  to  revenge  by  policy 
and  by  the  sense  of  personal  injury,  and  only  kept 
back  by  what  he  impatiently  calls  the  craven 
scruples  of  religion  and  conscience.  Othello  is  like- 
wise a  conspirator,  though  his  act  is  not  treason,  but 
more  nearly  allied  to  "  petit  treason."  He  has  this  in 
common  with  the  conspirator,  that  to  right  himself, 
to  do  what  seems  justice  and  to  revenge  what  seems 
sin,  he  takes  the  law  into  his  own  hands,  and 
becomes  legislator,  juryman,  and  judge  in  one. 

In  examining  Shakespeare's  physiology  of  con- 
spiracy we  must  again  recall  the  circumstances  of 
his  age  and  home.  He  lived  among  conspirators, 
as  they  were  then  reckoned;  among  men  whose 
political  and  religious  opinions  prevented  their  feel- 
ing that  content  with  things  as  they  were,  which 
was  required,  under  the  name  of  loyalty,  by  the 
rulers.  In  1584  he  must  have  been  in  the  midst 
of  the  panic  caused  by  the  apprehension  of  Somer- 
ville  and  Arden;  in  1601  he  was  intimate  with  the 
Essex  conspirators,  several  of  whom  were  his  near 
neighbours  at  Stratford,  who  were  again  implicated 
in  the  Gunpowder  Plot  of  1605.  The  conspirators 
in  these  cases  considered  that  the  measures  which 
they  undertook,  even  though  they  were  measures  of 
revenge,  were  of  a  judicial  character. 

A  passage  which  at  first  sight  seems  irreconcilable 
with  any  great  moral  depth  in  Hamlet,  is  the  famous 
one  where  he  makes  his  mother  compare  her  former 
and  her  present  husbands.     The  deed  which  had 


308  TRAGEDIES 

blasted  all  morality,  made  religion  a  rhapsody,  and 
darkened  the  face  of  nature,  seems  to  be  simply 
marrying  after  she  had  lost  a  handsome  husband. 
Such  is  the  plain  sense  of  the  speech,  "Look  here 
upon  this  picture,  and  on  this" — and  it  may  be 
asked  why  such  a  contrast  should  scarify  a  con- 
science. It  is  a  great  social  lapse,  but  not  in  itself 
a  moral  fall  if  the  widow  of  Hyperion  marries  a 
negro.  Yet  the  Queen,  without  waiting  for  Hamlet 
to  explain  the  real  criminality  of  her  action,  as  he 
afterwards  does,  is  moved  to  confess  herself  a  sinner 
for  this  very  crime  which  is  no  crime  at  all. 

"  O^Hamlet,  speak  no  more  : 
Thou  tum'st  mine  eyes  into  my  very  soul 
And  there  I  see  such  black  and  grained  spots 
As  will  not  leave  their  tinct "  (iii.  4). 

Lady  Macbeth,  steeped  to  the  lips  in  blood,  could 
say  no  more.  She  could  not  wash  the  stain  from 
her  hands.  The  explanation  is,  that  in  art,  to 
Shakespeare,  as  has  been  shown  in  the  sonnets, 
the  outward  beauty  is  but  a  sign  of  inward  virtue. 
"  Ad  ognuno  h  palese,"  says  Crescimbeni,  "  che  la 
bellezza  del  corpo  sia  sicuro  argomento,  anche 
naturalmente,  della  bellezza  dell'  anima."^  The 
front  of  Jove,  the  eye  of  Mars,  the  poise  of  Mercury, 
"  the  combination  and  form  "  in  Hamlet's  father, 

"  Where  every  god  did  give  assurance  of  a  man," 

were  but  the  exterior  pledge  of  the  spiritual  gifts 

*  Delia  Bellezza,  93. 


TRUE   BEAUTY   INWARD  3^9 

within,  the  passions  subject  to  reason,  and  reason  to 
grace.  His  stepfather  was,  compared  to  this  moun- 
tain, a  moor,  not  because  his  features  were  misshapen 
and  his  stature  dwarfed,  but  because  his  inward  soul 
was  deformed.  He  was  "  a  murderer,  a  villain,  and 
a  slave,  a  vice  of  kings,  a  cutpurse  of  the  empire 
and  the  rule."  The  truth  that  corporeal  beauty 
should  bespeak  inner  worth  is  axiomatic  with  the 
poet. 

Thus  Miranda  says  of  Ferdinand — 

"  There's  nothing  ill  can  dwell  in  such  a  temple  ; 
If  the  ill  spirit  have  so  fair  a  house 
Good  things  will  strive  to  dwell  with  it." 

— Tempest,  i.  2  ; 

and  Pericles  of  Marina — 

"  Falseness  cannot  come  from  thee  :  for  thou  look'st 
Modest  as  justice,  and  thou  seem'st  a  palace 
For  the  crowned  truth  to  dwell  in." 

It  is  Desdemona  s  purity,  apparent  in  her  whole 

presence,  which  makes  his  suspicion  of  her  so  terrible 

to  Othello. 

"  Look  where  she  comes  ! 
If  she  be  false,  0  then  Heaven  mocks  itself. 
I'll  not  believe  it "  (iii.  3). 

But  this  is  a  doctrine  which  love  accepts  spon- 
taneously at  first,  but  must  often  unlearn ;  and  then 
it  cries  out,  "  Thy  sweet  virtue  answers  not  thy 
show"  (Shakespeare,  Sonnet  93).     It  is  a  doctrine 


N 


3  I O  TRAGEDIES 

too  of  which  age  and  experience  of  the  world  become 
sceptical ;  thus  Duncan  can  say — 

"  There's  no  art 
To  find  the  mind's  construction  in  the  face." 

— Macbeth^  i.  4. 

But  this  disenchantment  is  wholly  due  to  man's 
perversity,  the  disorder  of  sin,  and  is  wholly  contrary 
to  the  Creator's  design,  which  is  the  ideal  of  the 
poet  and  of  all  true  art. 

A  similar  observation  must  be  made  with  regard 
to  the  suicidal  tendency  of  the  tragedy.  This  is 
an  artistic  necessity,  as  has  been  said  of  the  close 
of  "  Romeo  and  Juliet " ;  all  tragedy  is  necessarily 
sacrificial,  in  a  sense  suicidal ;  for  in  tragedy,  the  actor 
risks  all  upon  one  die.  He  devotes  himself  soul  and 
body  to  one  enterprise,  which  exhausts  him,  consumes 
all  the  wine  of  life,  and  leaves  nothing  but  the  lees 
for  the  empty  vault  to  brag  of.  When  the  hero  sur- 
vives the  tragical  catastrophe,  he  takes  himself  out 
of  tragedy  and  makes  himself  a  comic  personage. 
When  Claudio  in  "  Much  Ado  about  Nothing  "  walks 
away  safe  and  sound,  leaving  Hero  for  dead,  nothing 
can  remove  a  certain  impression  of  an  anti-climax, 
an  impression  which  remains,  notwithstanding  the 
vivacity  of  the  latter  part  of  the  play,  and  which 
helps  to  make  Benedick  the  true  hero  of  the  drama. 
A  vengeance  which  does  not  involve  self-destruction 
is  not  properly  tragic.  A  tragic  purpose  is  one 
which  straitens  the  whole  man  till  it  be  accom- 


TRAGEDY    AND    SUICIDE  3  I  1 

plished,  welds  him  together,  hardens  him,  points 
him  to  one  great  act,  in  doing  which  he  dies. 
Tragedy  is  devotion,  sacrifice ;  it  moves  as  much 
by  what  it  does  not  say  as  by  what  it  does  openly. 
It  speaks  only  of  the  earthly,  and  to  the  sense, 
its  term  is  the  grave;  but  it  is  without  meaning 
if  the  mind  does  not  transcend  this  limit,  and  see 
the  act  illumined  by  the  reflection  of  a  world 
beyond  the  grave.  No  sorrow,  however  deep,  is 
really  tragical  which  receives  its  consolation  here 
and  now.  Gibber  turned  "  Lear  "  into  a  comedy  by 
saving  Lear  and  Cordelia.  "  Hamlet "  would  be 
Cibberised  if  a  sixth  act  were  added,  in  which  he 
was  revived  to  be  king,  with  Horatio  for  prime 
minister,  and  Ophelia's  cousin  for  his  queen ! 

The  moral  difficulties  of  "  Hamlet "  then  disappear 
when  it  is  viewed  as  a  work  of  dramatic  art.  And 
after  clearing  these  difficulties,  none  need  be  felt 
about  its  religious  significance.  In  it  the  same  spirit 
is  manifested  which  we  shall  find  in  "  Cymbeline  "  ; 
a  spirit  that  clings  to  religious  traditions,  because 
in  religion  it  prefers  the  old  to  the  new ; — the  old 
which  may  be  an  echo  of  a  revelation,  to  the  new 
which  certainly  is  a  product  of  human  reflection 
and  thought.  Hence  the  relevancy  of  the  conver- 
sation between  Horatio  and  Marcellus. 

"  Hor.  I  have  heard, 

The  cock,  that  is  the  trumpet  of  the  morn, 
Doth  with  his  lofty  and  shrill-sounding  throat 
Awake  the  god  of  day  ;  and  at  his  warning, 


3  I  2  TRAGEDIES 

Whether  in  sea  or  fire,  in  earth  or  air, 
Th'  extravagant  and  erring  spirit  hies 
To  his  confine.  .  .  . 

Mar.  Some  say  that  ever,  'gainst  that  season  comes 
Wherein  our  Saviour's  birth  is  celebrated. 
This  bird  of  dawning  singeth  all  night  long, 
And  then,  they  say,  no  spirit  dares  stir  abroad  : 
The  nights  are  wholesome  ;  then  no  planets  strike, 
No  fairy  takes,  nor  witch  has  power  to  charm. 
So  hallowed  and  so  gracious  is  the  time. 

Hor.  So  have  I  heard,  and  do  in  part  believe  it"  (i.  i). 

Douce  finds  the  original  of  this  passage  in  a 
Salisbury  hymn,  printed  in  Pynson's  collection.  In 
the  first  quarto,  instead  of  the  ghost  first  "  starting 
like  a  guilty  thing"  (line  148),  and  then  "fading" 
(line  157),  it  "faded"  in  both  cases.  The  ghost 
fading  away  seems  much  more  congruous  for  a  being 
"so  majestical"  than  starting;  besides,  the  pallor 
of  guilt  upon  a  fearful  summons  is  more  charac- 
teristic than  the  spasmodic  start  which  is  common 
to  all  surprise.  The  ghost's  description  of  his  state 
points  unmistakeably  to  the  doctrine  of  Purgatory, 
which  Shakespeare,  if  he  had  been  a  Protestant, 
ought  to  have  regarded  "as  a  fond  thing  vainly 
invented,  grounded  on  no  warranty  of  Scripture, 
but  rather  repugnant  to  the  word  of  God." 

"  Mine  hour  is  almost  come 
When  I  to  sulphurous  and  tormenting  flames 
Must  render  up  myself.  .  .  . 
...  I  am  thy  father's  spirit ; 
Doomed  for  a  certain  time  to  walk  the  night, 
And  for  the  day  confined  to  fast  in  fires. 
Till  the  foul  crimes  done  in  my  days  of  nature 


THE    LAST   SACRAMENTS  3  13 

Are  burned  and  purged  away.    But  that  I  am  forbid 

To  tell  the  secrets  of  my  prison-house 

I  could  a  tale  unfold  whose  lightest  word 

AYould  harrow  up  thy  soul,  freeze  thy  young  blood, 

Make  thy  two  eyes,  like  stars,  start  from  their  spheres. 

Thy  knotted  and  combined  locks  to  part, 

And  each  particular  hair  to  stand  on  end 

Like  quills  upon  the  fretful  porcupine  : 

But  this  eternal  blazon  must  not  be 

To  ears  of  flesh  and  blood. 

.  .  .  Thus  was  I  .  .  . 

Cut  off  even  in  the  blossoms  of  my  sin, 

UnhouseVd,  disappointed,  unanel'd. 

No  reckoning  made,  but  sent  to  my  account 

With  all  my  imperfections  on  my  head"  (i.  5). 

"  Unlioiisel'd,"  is  without  the  Communion ;  "  dis- 
appointed," is  not  in  a  fit  state,  not  appointed  or 
prepared  by  absolution;  "unanel'd,"  is  without  the 
unction ;  "  no  reckoning  made,"  is  without  confes- 
sion. These  ceremonies  omitted,  man  goes  to  his 
account  with  all  his  imperfections  on  his  head. 
Performed,  they  take  him  out  of  the  world  with 
all  possible  helps.  They  give  him  a  share  in  the 
treasury  of  the  Church,  they  bring  him  into  com- 
pany with  those  who  relieve  him  of  some  of  his 
burden.  Such  is  the  doctrine  implied  in  Shake- 
speare's words,  which  were  added  to  the  play  in 
the  edition  of  1604,  and  are  not  found  in  that 
of  1603. 

In  the  same  scene  (line  136)  Hamlet  swears — 
"  Yes,  by  St.  Patrick."  Oaths  of  this  kind  are 
scattered  broadcast  through  the  plays,  and  they 
contribute    their    quota    to    the    determination    of 


314  TRAGEDIES 

the  poet's  opinions.  "  Were  it  not  an  idolatrous 
oath  I  would  swear  by  sweet  St.  George,"  says 
Greene  in  that  "  Groat's  Worth  of  Wit "  in  which 
he  makes  his  famous  attack  on  Shakespeare  as 
the  Johannes  Factotum.  Hamlet's  injunctions  to 
Ophelia,  "  Get  thee  to  a  nunnery  "  (iii.  i ),  chime  in 
with  Shakespeare's  recognised  approval  of  monasti- 
cism — an  approval  which  Dr.  Flathe  {Shakespeare  in 
seiner  Wirklichkeit,  i.  85)  seeks  to  disprove  by  two 
texts,  in  one  of  which  Rosalind  says  of  the  man 
she  had  cured  of  love  by  driving  him  mad,  that 
she  had  made  him  "forswear  the  full  stream  of 
the  world,  and  to  live  in  a  nook  merely  monastic  " 
("As  You  Like  It,"  iii.  2);  while  in  the  other, 
Venus  tries  to  seduce  Adonis  by  talking  to  him  of 

"  Love-lacking  vestals  and  self-loving  nuns 
That  on  the  earth  would  breed  a  scarcity 
And  barren  dearth  of  daughters  and  of  sons." 

— Venus  and  Adonis^  752. 

Venus'  argument  is  indeed  that  of  many  non- 
Catholics,  but  it  was  not  Shakespeare's. 

Hamlet  says  to  his  mother,  "  Confess  yourself  to 
heaven ;  repent  what's  past ;  avoid  what  is  to  come  " 
(iii.  4),  a  mode  of  speech  which  might  be  indifferently 
Protestant  or  Catholic ;  but  when  a  few  lines  farther 
on  she  says, "  0  Hamlet,  thou  hast  cleft  my  heart  in 
twain,"  and  he  answers,  "  0  throw  away  the  worser 
part  of  it,  and  live  the  purer  with  the  other  half," 
there  is  a  very  sensible  mark  of  the  sacrificial  form 


PRAYERS    FOR   THE    DEAD  31S 

of  religion.  The  king's  order  to  bring  Polonius' 
body  into  the  chapel  is  more  consonant  to  Catholic 
than  to  Protestant  practice.  The  feelings  which 
come  out  so  naturally  in  Ophelia's  madness  are 
Catholic — "They  say  he  made  a  good  end — God 
ha'  mercy  on  his  soul,  and  of  all  Christian  souls,  I 
pray  God  "  (iv.  5 ). 

We  have  already  noticed  how  natural,  grace- 
ful, and  noble  Shakespeare  makes  Catholic  feelings 
appear  in  his  great  historical  portraits,  such  as 
"  Richard  II."  A  like  remark  may  be  added  touch- 
ing his  portraits  of  the  mad,  the  uneducated,  the 
common  people,  who  have,  in  their  own  way,  the 
naturalness  and  simplicity  of  field-flowers,  which  a 
master  like  Shakespeare  can  make  as  attractive  as 
the  richer  qualities  of  the  more  cultivated  kinds. 
Now  it  is  worth  while  to  notice  the  part  which 
Prayer  for  the  Dead  plays  in  creating  this  attrac- 
tiveness. Read  the  mad  scene  of  Ophelia — look 
at  Juliet's  nurse — 

"Susan  and  she — God  rest  all  Christian  souls  ! — 
Were  of  an  age  :  well,  Susan  is  with  God  ; 
She  was  too  good  for  me." — Romeo  and  Juliet^  i.  3, 

or  at  old  Gobbo  ("  Merchant  of  Venice,"  ii.  2) 
to  his  son  who  had  reported  his  own  death — 
"Alack  the  day,  I  know  you  not,  young  gentle- 
man; but  I  pray  you  tell  me,  is  my  boy,  God 
rest  his  soul,  dead  or  alive  ? "  —  or  the  grave- 
maker    who    tells    Hamlet    that    he    is    digging    a 


3  1 6  TRAGEDIES 

grave  for  "  One  that  was  a  woman,  but,  rest  her 
soul,  she's  dead "  ("  Hamlet,"  v.  i ).  Not  that 
Shakespeare  at  all  confines  this  ejaculation  to  the 
uneducated ;  he  makes  Macduff  cry  out  on  hearing 
of  the  murder  of  his  wife  and  children,  "  Heaven 
rest  them  now  !  "  ("  Macbeth,"  iv.  3).  Warwick, 
when  he  finds  his  brother  dead,  cries  out,  "  Sweet 
rest  his  soul"  ("3  Henry  VI.,"  v.  2),  and  Horatio 
to  Hamlet  just  dead,  "  Flights  of  angels  sing  thee 
to  thy  rest "  ("  Hamlet,"  v.  2).  On  this  subject  we 
may  quote  the  passage  when  Laertes  demands  more 
funeral  honour  for  his  sister,  than  can  be  allowed. 
"  What  ceremony  else  ? "  he  asks,  to  which  the 
Priest  answers — 

"  Her  obsequies  have  been  as  far  enlarged 
As  we  have  warranties  ;  her  death  was  doubtful ; 
And,  but  that  great  command  o'ersways  the  order, 
She  should  in  ground  unsanctified  have  lodged 
Till  the  last  trumpet ;  for  charitable  prayers, 
Sliards,  flints,  and  pebbles  should  be  thrown  on  her, 
Yet  here  she  is  allowed  her  virgin  rites, 
Her  maiden  strewmei^,  and  the  bringing  home 
Of  bell  and  burial,     n 

Lacr.  Must  there  no  more  be  done  ? 

Priest.  No  more  be  done  : 

We  should  profane  the  service  of  the  dead 
To  sing  a  requiem  and  such  rest  to  her 
As  to  peace-parted  souls." 

And  Laertes  rejoins — 

"  I  tell  thee,  churlish  priest, 
A  ministering  angel  shall  my  sister  be 
When  thou  liest  howling  "  (v.  i). 


THE    DIKGE    FOR   OPHELIA  3 17 

In  the  quarto  of  1603  the  Priest,  instead  of 
saying  that  she  cannot  have  Requiem  sung,  says  that 
she  has  had  Dirge  sung  for  her ;  the  Dirge  is  the 
simple  prayer  and  psalmody,  the  Vespers  and 
Matins ;  the  Requiem  is  the  solemn  sacrifice. 

"  My  Lord,  we  have  done  all  that  lies  in  us, 
And  more  than  well  the  Church  can  tolerate, 
She  hath  had  a  Dirge  sung  for  her  maiden  soul : 
And  but  for  favour  of  the  King  and  you, 
She  had  been  buried  in  the  open  fields 
Where  now  sbe  is  allowed  Christian  burial." 

Shakespeare  has  a  more  personal  approval  of 
prayer  for  the  dead  in  his  poem  on  the  Phoenix 
and  Turtle — 

"  Let  the  priest  in  surplice  white 
That  def unctive  music  can 
Be  the  death-divining  swan. 
Lest  the  Requiem  lack  his  right 


And 


agam- 


"  To  this  urn  let  those  repair 
That  are  either  true  or  fair  : 
For  these  dead  birds  breathe  a  prayer." 

Another  stage  of  this  Threnos  is  remarkable  in 
connection  with  Shakespeare's  opinions  about  monas- 
ticism,  ceUbacy,  and  kindred  doctrines ;  he  says  of 
the  persons  whom  he  celebrates  under  the  names 
of  the  two  birds — 

"  Death  is  now  the  phoenix'  nest ; 
And  the  turtle's  loyal  breast 


3  I  8  TK  AGEDIES 

To  eternity  doth  rest, 
Leaving  no  posterity. 
'Twas  not  their  infirmity, 
It  was  married  chastity." 

As  a  comment  on  these  two  lines,  we  may  quote 
a  passage  from  the  Saturday  Review  of  October  i, 
1864,  upon  a  "Cornish  Mystery"  published  in  the 
Transactions  of  the  Philological  Society  of  that  year  : 
"  Such  a  passage  as  this  could  hardly  have  been 
written  since  the  Reformation.  After  the  murder 
of  Cain,  Adam  says — 

*  Therefore  after  this, 
Chastely  will  we  live  together, 
And  carnal  joy  in  this  world 
We  will  together  deny  us.' 

It  does  not  directly  contradict  any  Protestant 
dogma,  but  is  much  more  in  the  natural  vein  of 
an  ante-Reformation  poet." 

In  "  Hamlet,"  as  it  had  always  been  performed  in 
Elizabeths  reign,  the  foolish  old  statesman  was 
called  Corambis ;  in  the  edition  of  1 604  the  name 
is  changed  to  Polonius.  The  wisdom  of  Lord 
Burghley  is  a  dogma  of  such  strong  traditional 
credit  that  it  may  look  overbold  to  say  that  he 
was  glanced  at  in  this  character.  The  points, 
however,  which  serve  to  identify  him  are,  first, 
the  advice  to  Laertes  (i.  3),  which  corresponds 
to  Burghley s  advice  to  his  son;  next,  Polonius* 
care  in  his  choice  of  words  in  "  expostulating "  (i.e. 


POLONIUS   AND   BURGHLEY  319 

expostulate)  "matters  of  State,"  and  his  obtrusive 
artificiality  in  covering  nonsense  with  a  robe  of 
seeming  sense,  as  befits  men  "  of  wisdom  and  of 
reach."  The  man  who  could  write  to  Sir  Geo.  Gary  : 
"  I  thank  you  for  your  last  letters,  by  which  I  was 
glad  to  perceive  your  prestness  to  enter  into 
Scotland  ...  I  think  the  dulceness  used  to  the 
Duke  proceedeth  of  the  apparence  of  the  King's 
own  humour,  which  if  it  come  of  mildness  of  nature 
I  am  glad,  and  if  it  come  of  the  counterfeited 
provisableness  of  the  Duke  with  pleasing,  I  hope 
time  will  spend  those  concepts,"  &c.,  would  cer- 
tainly, especially  when  he  grew  a  little  older,  speak 
in  the  vein  of  Polonius. 

Those  who  have  had  occasion  to  look  over  many 
of  the  documents  in  the  State  Paper  office,  which 
passed  through  Burghley's  hands,  will  remember 
with  what  diligence  he  dashed  and  noted  the 
peregrinate  and  inflated  words  that  his  corres- 
pondents wrote  to  him,  such  as  the  "  prestness " 
and  "dulceness"  of  the  above  scrap.  He  would 
certainly  have  made  Polonius'  criticism  "mobbed 
queen  is  good."  We  do  not  mean  to  confine 
Polonius  to  Burghley.  Burghley  was  an  avatar 
of  Polonius'  spirit,  as  Leicester  was  of  Glaudius', 
Elizabeth  of  Lettice's,  the  Countess  of  Leicester  of 
Hamlet's  mother's,  and  Essex  of  Hamlet's.  The 
possibilities  of  Shakespeare's  types  go  far  beyond 
the  realities  of  any  given  individuals. 

Shakespeare  also  gives  Polonius  somewhat  of  the 


320  TRAGEDIES 

scriptural  formalism  or  preachiness  of  his  Falstaff, 
Bottom,  Costard,  &c.  When  Polonius  describes  the 
stages  of  Hamlet's  malady — 

"  Fell  into  a  sadness,  then  into  a  fast, 
Thence  to  a  watch,  thence  into  a  weakness, 
Thence  to  a  lightness,  and  by  this  declension 
Into  the  madness  wherein  now  he  raves  "  (ii.  2), 

he  surely  has  in  his  eyes  St.  Paul's  scale  of  re- 
pentance in  the  Corinthians.  Then  his  politic 
baiting  of  mouse-traps,  as  he  describes  them  (ii.  5) 
to  Reynaldo,  and  his  confession — 

"  We  are  oft  to  blame  in  this — 
'Tis  too  much  proved—  that  with  devotion's  visage 
And  pious  action,  we  do  sugar  o'er 
The  devil  himself"  (iii.  1), 

which  is  singularly  applicable  to  the  story  current 
of  Lord  Burghley,  that  he  owed  his  safety  under 
Queen  Mary  to  the  diligence  with  which  he  mani- 
pulated a  monstrous  set  of  beads  every  morning 
in  Wimbledon  Church. 

Hunter  finds  a  parallel  to  the  Ghost  in  Hamlet 
in  a  ghost  story  current  in  the  families  of  Stourton 
and  Arundell  (of  Wardour)  and  consequently  in  the 
kindred  houses  of  Derby,  Montague,  and  South- 
ampton, in  1588.  It  is  related  in  More's  "History 
of  the  EngHsh  Province  of  the  Society  of  Jesus" 
(Lib.  V.  No.  xi.  p.  171):  "  The  Lord  Stourton,  whose 
widow  married  with  Lord  Arundell,  was  a  Catholic 
at  heart,  but  externally  conformed  to  the  established 


THE   GHOST   OF    LORD   STOURTON  32 1 

religion,  preferring  the  preservation  of  his  property 
to  the  use  and  fruit  of  the  Sacraments ;  but  for 
fear  he  might  be  taken  oif  unprepared  in  this  grave 
neglect,  he  kept  at  his  house  two  priests,  and 
ordered  that  one  should  always  be  at  home  by  day 
and  by  night;  but  by  the  secret  judgment  of  God 
his  precautions  proved  vain  in  his  last  sickness,  for 
both  were  absent,  and  no  other  priest  could  be 
found.  He  called,  therefore,  his  wife  (a  daughter 
of  Edward,  Earl  of  Derby,  and  sister  to  the  Stanley 
whose  epitaph  Shakespeare  wrote),  and  with  many 
tears  explained  to  them  his  exceeding  grief,  that 
whereas  he  supremely  desired  to  have  the  last  rites 
of  the  Church,  he  was  balked  of  the  gift ;  at  the 
same  time  he  acknowledged  his  grievous  fault  of 
pretended  conformity,  and  humbly  begged  pardon 
for  all  that  weighed  on  his  dying  soul,  and  died. 
The  affair  was  referred  to  Father  Cornelius.  He 
was  asked  whether  one  might  pray  for  the  man  who 
had  so  died  ?  '  You  both  may,  and  you  must,'  he 
replied.  The  next  day  as  he  was  saying  Mass,  and 
making  commemoration  of  the  dead,  the  man  just 
dead  stood  on  the  Gospel  side  of  the  altar,  clothed 
in  his  usual  cloak,  and  asked  the  Father  to  have 
pity  on  him,  for  he  was  burning  in  purgatorial 
fires ;  he  then  opened  his  garment,  and  showed  his 
burnt  side ;  he  then  asked  to  be  recommended  to 
those  present.  Cornelius,  turning  his  face  towards 
the  ghost,  remained  so  long  praying,  that  he  was 
reminded   by  the  server  that  ho  would  never  end. 


322  TRAGEDIES 

After  Mass,  he  exhorted  the  congregation  to  per- 
severe in   prayer   for   the   soul   of  Lord  Stourton; 
for  he  was  roasting  in  the  fires  of  Purgatory,  and 
demanded  the  assistance  of  the  living.     Some  say 
that  the  vision  occurred  at  the  commemoration  of 
the  living;  others  that  it  was  seen  by  the  server 
as  well  as  the  priest ;  but  the  affair  was  universally 
talked  about,  and  is  to  this  day  a  fixed  tradition  in 
the  families  of  Stourton  and  Arundell."     So  wrote 
More    in    1660.       Challoner    in    his   "  Memoirs   of 
Missionary  Priests,"  vol.  i.  p.  310  (ed.  Richardson, 
Derby,  1843)  gives  a  similar  account  on  still  earlier 
authority :  "  When  Mr.  Cornelius  was  saying  Mass 
for  the  soul  of  John,  Lord  Stourton  (who  had  died 
unreconciled,  but  with  great  desire  of  the  sacraments, 
and   more    than    ordinary    marks    of    sorrow    and 
repentance),  he  had  a  vision,  after  the  consecration 
and  elevation  of  the  chalice  (i.e.  at  the  commemora- 
tion   of  the   dead),   of  the  soul  of  the  said  Lord 
Stourton,  then  in  Purgatory,  desiring  him  to  pray 
for  him,  and  to  request  of  the  lady,  his  mother, 
to  cause  masses  to  be  said  for  his  soul.     This  vision 
was  also  seen  at  the  same  time  by  Patrick  Salmon, 
a  good  religious  soul,   who   was  then  serving  Mr. 
Cornelius  at  Mass." 

We  subjoin  the  following  parallel  between  Hamlet 
and  Essex,  as  showing  how  the  poet  is  discovered  to 
reflect  in  detail  the  history  of  his  time.  "  Has  it  ever 
been  hinted  that  the  poet  may  have  conceived  his 
characters   of    Hamlet    from   Essex,   and    Horatio 


HAMLET   AND   ESSEX  323 

from  Southampton?  If  not,  it  might  be  well  to 
consider  the  indications  which  would  point  to  such 
a  conclusion.  They  are  not  few,  perhaps,  whether 
regard  be  paid  to  the  external  or  the  personal  facts. 
It  will  suffice  here  to  suggest  a  line  of  inquiry.  To 
the  common  people  Essex  was  a  prince.  He  was 
descended  through  his  father  from  Edward  III.,  and 
through  his  mother  was  the  immediate  kinsman  of 
Elizabeth.  Many  persons,  most  absurdly,  imagined 
his  title  to  the  throne  a  better  one  than  the  Queen's. 
In  person,  for  he  had  his  father  s  beauty,  he  was  all 
that  Shakespeare  has  described  the  Prince  of  Den- 
mark to  have  been.  Then,  again,  his  mother  had 
been  tempted  from  her  duty  while  her  gracious  and 
noble  husband  was  alive.  That  handsome  and  gene- 
rous husband  was  supposed  to  have  been  poisoned 
by  the  guilty  pair.  After  the  father's  murder  the 
seducer  had  married  the  mother.  The  father  had 
not  perished  in  his  prime  without  feeling  and  ex- 
pressing some  doubt  that  foul  play  had  been  used 
against  him,  yet  sending  his  forgiveness  to  the  guilty 
woman  who  had  sacrificed  his  honour,  perhaps  taken 
away  his  life.  There  is  indeed  an  exceeding  singu- 
larity of  agreement  in  the  facts  of  the  case  and  the 
incidents  of  the  play.  The  relation  of  Claudius  to 
Hamlet  are  the  same  as  those  of  Leicester  to  Essex : 
under  pretence  of  fatherly  friendship  he  was  suspi- 
cious of  his  motives,  jealous  of  his  actions;  kept 
him  much  in  the  country  and  at  college;  let  him 
see  little  of  his  mother ;  and  clouded  his  prospects 


324  TRAGEDIES 

in  the  world  by  an  appearance  of  benignant  favour. 
Gertrude's  relations  with  her  son  were  much  like 
those  of  Lettice  to  Robert  Devereux.  Then,  again, 
in  his  moodiness,  in  his  college  learning,  in  his  love 
for  the  theatre  and  the  players,  in  his  desire  for  the 
fiery  action  for  which  his  nature  was  most  imfit, 
there  are  many  characteristics  of  Essex  which  recall 
the  image  of  the  Danish  prince."  ^ 

As  "Hamlet"  is  the  physiology  of  justifiable 
treason,  so  "  Lear "  is  the  development  of  the  doc- 
trine which  was  involved  in  Henry  VIII.'s  theory 
of  Empire,  and  was  broadly  stated  in  the  days  of 
James  I. — tcni  et  iinivoce.  The  monarch  has  the 
monopoly  of  loyalty  and  obedience,  and  whoever 
gives  only  a  divided  allegiance  is  a  traitor.  Lear, 
the  king  and  father,  demands  complete  submission 
from  his  daughters.  Goneril  and  Regan,  Avhile 
professing  to  grant  it,  give  the  king  less  than  his 
due.  Cordelia,  while  refusing  to  grant  it,  respects 
in  practice  the  sovereign  and  paternal  rights. 
Regan  puts  the  problem  to  be  solved  in  the  play 

thus — 

"  How  in  one  house 
Should  many  people,  under  two  commands, 
Hold  amity  ?    'Tis  hard,  almost  impossible  "  (ii.  4). 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  this  idea  is  Shakespeare's 
own ;  neither  the  play  nor  the  old  chronicle  makes 
Cordelia  say  that  the  reason  why  she  cannot  exclu- 

1  "  Court  and  Society  from  Elizabeth  to  Anne,"  by  the  Duke  of 
Manchester,  i.  297. 


leak's  absolutism  325 

sively  love  her  father,  is  because  it  may  be  her  duty 
to  love  another  as  much.  Shakespeare  alone  points 
out  the  distinction  of  duties — 

"  Haply  when  I  shall  wed, 
That  lord  whose  hand  must  take  my  plight  shall  carry 
Half  my  love  with  him,  half  my  care  and  duty — 
Sure,  I  shall  never  marry  like  my  sisters 
To  love  my  father  all"  (i.  i). 

Lear  would  have  all,  and  those  who  promise  all 
end  by  giving  none.  Regan  and  Goneril  find  that 
in  promising  all  they  have  promised  the  im- 
possible. 

The  religious  allusions  are  few  but  suggestive. 
Goneril,  whose  profession  pleased  her  father,  exhibits 
a  true  Protestant  dislike  to  the  text  which  teaches 
that  branches  lopped  off  from  the  vine  will  wither, 
and  must  be  burned.     When  Albany  says  to  her — 

"  She  that  herself  will  sliver  and  disbranch 
From  her  maternal  sap,  perforce  must  wither, 
And  come  to  deadly  use." 

She  replies,  "  No  more ;  the  text  is  foolish  " ;  and  he 
answers,  "  Wisdom  and  goodness  to  the  vile  seem 
vile :  filths  savour  but  themselves  "  (iv.  2). 

Cordelia,  as  Queen  of  France,  is  put  in  the  posi- 
tion of  a  Catholic,  and  the  terms  used  of  her  in  the 
gentleman's  description  of  her  bearing, 

"  She  shook 
The  holy  water  from  her  heavenly  eyes  "  (iv.  3), 

have  a  Catholic  tone  about  them — and  the  motives 


326  TRAGEDIES 

which  keep  Lear  from  Cordelia  are  much  the  same 
as  those  which  were  supposed  to  keep  the  Enghsh 
government  from  reconciling  itself  with  the  English 
Catholics. 

"  A  sovereign  shame  so  elbows  him  ;  his  own  unkindness 
That  stripped  her  from  his  benediction,  turned  her 
To  foreign  casualties,  gave  her  dear  rights 
To  his  dog-hearted  daughters,  these  things  sting 
His  mind  so  venomously,  that  burning  shame 
Detains  him  from  Cordelia  "  (iv.  3). 

Lear  had  already  learned  that  the  absolute  submis- 
sion professed  by  his  daughters,  and  their  readiness 
"  To  say  *  ay '  and  '  no '  to  everything  I  said  !  '  Ay  * 
and  *  no '  too,  was  no  good  divinity  "  (iv.  6).  The 
true  theology  is  built  on  "  distinctions "  whose  fan 
winnows  away  the  bad  and  leaves  the  good. 

Lear,  on  first  seeing  Cordelia,  cries  out,  as  if  from 
Purgatory — 

"  You  do  me  wrong  to  take  me  out  0'  the  grave  : 
Thou  art  a  soul  in  bliss  ;  but  I  am  bound 
Upon  a  wheel  of  fire,  that  mine  own  tears 

^  Do  scald  like  molten  lead  "  (iv.  7). 

And  when  he  had  overcome  his  shame,  and  had 
fully  reconciled  himself  to  Cordelia,  then  his  joy  puts 
on  the  solemn  utterance  of  religion,  and  he  gladly 
makes  the  sacrifice  of  Hfe. 

"  Come,  let's  away  to  prison, 
We  two  alone  will  sing  like  birds  i'  the  cage. 
When  thou  dost  ask  me  blessing,  I'll  kneel  down 
And  ask  of  thee  forgiveness  :  so  we'll  live, 


SACRIFICIAL   CONCLUSION  327 

And  pray,  and  sing,  and  tell  old  tales,  and  laugh 
At  gilded  butterflies,  and  hear  poor  rogues 
'    Talk  of  court  news  ;  and  we'll  talk  with  them  too, 
Who  loses  and  who  wins  ;  who's  in,  who's  out ; 
And  take  upon's  the  mystery  of  things 
As  if  we  were  God's  spies  ;  and  we'll  wear  out. 
In  a  walled  prison,  packs  and  sects  of  great  ones 
That  ebb  and  flow  by  the  moon  .  .  . 
Upon  such  sacrifice,  my  Cordelia, 
The  gods  themselves  throw  incense  "  (v.  3). 

The  times  to  which   the  drama  refers  are  charac- 
terised by  Gloucester,  "  'Tis  the  times'  plague,  when 
madmen  lead  the  blind  "  (iv.  i ) ;  and  by  Albany  at      '  J ^^ 
the  end: — 

"  The  weight  of  this  sad  time  we  must  obey, 
Speak  what  we  feel,  not  what  we  ought  to  say. 
The  oldest  hath  borne  most :  we  that  are  young 
Shall  never  see  so  much,  nor  live  so  long"  (v.  3). 

And  the  conclusion  is  like  that  of  Shakespeare's 
sacrificial  tragedies,  such  as  "  Romeo  and  Juliet," 
where  the  death  of  the  chief  actors  has  its  effect 
in  the  conversion  of  the  survivors.  Albany  is 
of  the  faction  of  Lear's  two  daughters,  he  fights 
against  him  and  Cordelia ;  yet  at  the  conclusion  he 
is  left  as  the  true  representative  of  Lear,  whose 
cause  is  triumphant,  though  to  secure  its  triumph 
he  and  Cordelia  perish. 

But  an  objection  to  Shakespeare's  Catholicism 
requiring  a  somewhat  detailed  examination  is  com- 
monly found  in  Edgar's  feigned  madness ;  the  names 
he  gives  to  his  supposed  devil  being  the  same  as 


328  TRAGEDIES 

those  uttered  by  the  possessed  persons  who  were 
exorcised  by  Father  William  Weston,  S.J.  The 
exorcisms  in  question  took  place  chiefly  at  Sir 
George  Peckham's  at  Denham,  near  Uxbridge,  and 
at  Lord  Vaux's  at  Hackney,  and  were  made  known 
to  the  world  in  Harsnet's  "  Popish  Impostures,"  in 
the  account  there  given  of  the  trial  of  the  parties 
concerned  in  the  Ecclesiastical  Court.  Harsnet 
held  successively  the  sees  of  Chichester,  Norwich, 
and  York,  and  in  his  capacity  first  of  secretary  then 
of  judge  in  the  Ecclesiastical  Court,  he  seems  to 
have  accepted  any  witness,  however  worthless  and 
false,  who  would  help  to  obtain  the  verdict  he 
desired.  His  book  is  full  of  the  vilest  calumnies. 
A  true  account  of  the  possessions  was  given  by 
Father  Weston  himself  in  his  autobiography,  edited 
by  Father  Morris,  S.J}  Our  business,  however,  is 
only  to  inquire  into  the  nature  of  Shakespeare's 
belief  in  good  and  evil  spirits,  as  set  forth  in  his 
writings,  and  to  see  whether  the  nomenclature  ot 
Edgar's  devils  is  an  argument  in  favour  of  his  Pro- 
testantism. 

The  belief  in  good  and  evil  spirits  forms  an 
essential  part  of  the  Christian  revelation,  and  was 
held  by  Puritans  and  Protestants  as  well  as  by 
Catholics  in  Shakespeare's  time.  Harsnett  in  fact 
prosecuted  Darrell  the  preacher  for  exorcising  seven 
persons  in  the  Puritan  family  of  Starchie,  and 
Hartley  was  put  to  death  for  exorcising  in  the  same 

1  "  Troubles  of  our  Catholic  Forefathers,"  chap,  vii.,  2nd  series. 


POSSESSED    PERSONS  329 

household.  The  72nd  canon  of  the  English  Church 
forbidding  exorcisms  was  passed  in  consequence  of 
the  Darrell  case.  Belief  in  evil  spirits,  like  every 
other  doctrine  of  faith,  is  open  to  superstitious 
corruption  and  to  abuse  for  servile  ends.  From 
the  days  of  Simon  Magus  there  have  been  conjur- 
ing quacks,  and  true  exorcists ;  simulated  cases  of 
possession,  and  real  demoniacs.  But  superstition 
points  to  a  basis  of  fact,  and  it  is  proper  to  a  sound 
judgment  to  be  able  to  distinguish  truth  from  im- 
posture by  the  character  of  the  evidence  adduced. 
Thus,  Blessed  Thomas  More,  as  shrewd,  learned, 
and  experienced  a  lawyer  as  any  in  the  England 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  after  recounting  the  pre- 
tended cure  of  Simcox  ("  2  Henry  IV.,"  ii.  i ) 
already  related,  proceeds  to  say  that  as  false 
jewels  do  not  disprove  the  existence  of  precious 
stones,  but  show  the  necessity  of  precaution  in 
judging  them,  and  of  applying  proper  tests,  so  it 
is  with  miracles.  "  You  do  not,"  he  says,  "  mistrust 
St.  Peter  for  Judas ; "  and  he  proceeds  to  relate  a 
case  of  possession  in  the  person  of  a  daughter  of 
Sir  Roger  Wentworth,  who  was  cured  by  Our  Lady 
of  Ipswich  under  circumstances  which,  in  his  judg- 
ment, attested  its  reality.  "There  was,"  he  says, 
"  in  this  matter  no  pretext  of  begging ;  no  possi- 
bility of  counterfeiting ;  no  simpleness  in  the  seers, 
her  father,  and  others  right  honourable  and  rich, 
sore  abashed  at  seeing  such  sad  changes  in  their 
children.     The  great  number  of  witnesses,  many  of 


330  TRAGEDIES 

great  worship,  wisdom,  and  good  experience,  and  the 
maid  herself,  too  young  to  feign,  and  the  fashion 
itself  too  strange  for  any  man  to  feign.  Finally, 
the  virgin  herself  was  so  moved  in  mind  by  the 
miracle  "  that  for  aught  her  father  could  do,  "  she 
forsook  the  world,  and  professed  religion  in  a  very 
good  and  noble  company  of  the  Minoresses,  where 
she  hath  lived  well  and  virtuously  ever  since."  ^ 

Now  we  think  Shakespeare's  view  of  preternatural 
manifestation  was  like  that  of  More.  He  knows 
how  to  condemn  and  expose  the  false  conjuring  of 
Pinch,  or  the  pretended  sorceries  of  Southwell  and 
Bolingbroke.  He  may  complain  with  Hotspur  that 
such  "skimble  skamble"  credulity  as  Glendower's 
"  puts  him  from  the  faith,"  or  is  a  scandal  to  religion, 
or  through  the  mouth  of  Mrs.  Page  he  may  expose 
the  old  wives'  tales  how 

"  The  superstitious  idle-headed  elf 
Received,  and  did  deliver  to  our  age, 
This  tale  of  Heme  the  Hunter  for  a  truth." 

—Merry  Wives  of  TVindsor,  iv.  4. 

He  can  embody,  in  the  comic,  good-natured  satire  of 
"  Midsummer-Night's  Dream,"  the  popular  belief  in 
beneficent  elves  and  fairies,  or  weave  into  the  woof 
of  his  tragedy  the  superstitions  prevalent  on  witch- 
craft. Yet  he  can  speak  with  unfeigned  respect  of 
the  remedial  exorcisms  of  the  Abbess,  and  make 
the  whole  action  of  his  mightiest  drama  hinge  on 

^  Works,  137. 


ANGELS  331 

the  apparition  of  a  blessed  spirit.  He  can  recount 
as  an  attested  fact  the  numberless  cures  worked  by 
St.  Edward  and  the  cure  of  the  king  by  Helena's  aid. 
Nor  are  these  merely  chance  poetic  expressions. 
Shakespeare's  belief  in  the  spiritual  world  is  attested 
by  the  fact  that  the  functions  he  assigns  to  the  angels 
are  in  strict  accordance  with  Catholic  theology. 
Their  songs  are  the  harmony  of  Heaven,  and  "  they 
tune  the  music  of  the  spheres"  ("Merchant  of  Venice," 
V.  I ).  They  are  invoked  as  "  blessed  ministers  from 
above  "  ("  Measure  for  Measure,"  v.  i ),  as  "  ministers 
of  grace  "  ("  Hamlet,"  i.  4),  as  "  heavenly  guards  " 
("  Hamlet,"  iii.  4) ;  though  in  constant  conflict  with 
evil,  they  remain  unstained.  Their  love  for  men,  pure, 
disinterested,  divine,  furnishes  the  type  of  Catherine's 
conjugal  fidelity. 

"He  counsels  a  divorce  :  a  loss  of  her 
That  like  a  jewel  has  hung  twenty  years 
About  his  neck  yet  never  lost  her  lustre  ; 
Of  her,  that  loves  him  with  that  excellence 
That  angels  love  good  men  with,  even  of  her 
That  when  the  greatest  stroke  of  fortune  falls 
Will  bless  the  king."— Henry  VIII.,  ii.  2. 

They  shed  tears  on  the  crimes  and  disorders  of  man, 

"  But  man,  proud  man  ! 
Drest  in  a  little  brief  authority, 
Most  ignorant  of  what  he's  most  assured, 
His  glassy  essence,  like  an  angry  ape, 
Plays  such  fantastic  tricks  before  high  heaven 
As  make  the  angels  weep." 

— Measure  for  Measure^  ii.  2  ; 

and  they  rejoice  over  his  repentance. 


332  TRAGEDIES 

"  Then  there  is  mirth  in  heaven, 
When  earthly  things  made  even 
Atone  together." — As  You  Like  It,  v.  4. 

They  inspire  the  soul  with  the  spirit  of  prayer,  and 
though  the  heart  be  hard  as  strings  of  steel,  they 
make  it  soft  as  new-born  babe's  ("  Hamlet,"  iii.  3). 
Lastly,  they  watch  by  man  in  his  agony,  and  sing  him 
to  rest  ("  Hamlet,"  v.  2). 

Nor  is  Shakespeare  less  accurate  with  regard  to 
the  nature  and  functions  of  the  evil  spirits.  As 
Henry  V.  has  a  good  angel  ever  about  him,  so  Fal- 
staff  follows  him  like  his  evil  angel  "  up  and  down  " 
("  2  Henry  IV.,"  i.  2).  Similarly  Antony,  as  a  heathen, 
has  his  demon,  and  the  witches  in  Macbeth  pander 
to  man's  curiosity,  and  serve  him  solely  with  mali- 
cious intent,  that  he  may  "  dwindle,  peak,  and  pine  " 
("  Macbeth,"  1.3).  The  devils  can  assume  all  shapes 
that  man  goes  up  and  down  in,  from  "  fourscore  to 
thirteen "  ("  Timon  of  Athens,"  ii.  2).  They  can 
present  themselves  in  pleasing  forms,  and  they  sug- 
gest the  worst  temptations  imder  some  appearance 
of  holiness. 

"  When  devils  will  their  blackest  sins  put  on, 
They  do  suggest  at  first  with  heavenly  shows." 

— Othelloy  iL  3. 

Thus,  too,  they  put  man  off  his  guard  and  suggest 
a  motive  for  sin,  by  quoting  Scripture,  applying 
some  accepted  truth  in  a  false  sense,  or  luring  him 
by  honest  trifles  they  "  betray  us  in  deepest  conse- 


BELIEFS   IN   POKTENTS  333 

quence  "  ("  Macbeth,"  i.  3).  If  Shakespeare  thus  seri- 
ously attributes  all  the  power  to  evil  spirits  accorded 
to  them  by  Catholic  doctrine,  we  see  no  reason  why 
his  allusion  in  Edgar's  speech  to  the  "possessed"  at 
Sir  G.  Peckham's  should  be  regarded  as  a  caricature 
of  the  Church's  belief.  The  evidence  of  such  men 
as  Fathers  Weston  and  Cornelius,  the  latter  a 
martyr  for  the  Faith,  was  surely  as  unimpeachable 
as  that  which  satisfied  Sir  T.  More. 

Another  phase  of  belief  in  the  preternatural 
current  in  Shakespeare's  time,  was  the  significance 
attached  to  natural  portents,  as  signs  of  the  divine 
displeasure  at  the  changes  being  wrought  in  Church 
and  State.  The  sudden  rise  of  the  Thames  and  Trent, 
and  the  consequent  floods  on  the  day  of  Blessed 
Campion's  death,  were  then  regarded  as  nature's 
protest  against  the  murderous  deed.  Thus  Poundes 
wrote : — 

"  The  scowling  skies  did  stream  and  puff  apace, 

They  could  not  bear  the  wrong  that  malice  wrought, 
The  sun  drew  in  his  shining  purple  face. 

The  moistened  clouds  shed  brinish  tears  for  thought, 
The  river  Thames  awhile  astonished  stood 

To  count  the  drops  of  Campion's  sacred  blood. 
Nature  with  tears  bewailed  her  heavy  loss, 

Honesty  feared  herself  should  shortly  die  ; 
Religion  saw  her  champion  on  the  cross, 

Angels  and  Saints  desired  leave  to  cry  ; 
E'en  Heresy,  the  eldest  child  of  Hell, 

Began  to  blush  and  thought  she  did  not  well." 

"  All  which  accidents,"  says  Parsons,  speaking  of  the 


334  TRAGEDIES 

same  occurrence,  "  though  some  will  compute  to 
other  causes,  yet  happenmg  when  so  open  and  un- 
natural injustice  was  done,  they  cannot  but  be 
interpreted  as  tokens  of  God's  indignation."  ^  Now 
Shakespeare  is  continually  calling  attention  to  such 
occurrences  as  omens  of  the  king's  death  or  of  the 
kingdom's  overthrow : — 

"  The  seasons  change  their  manner  as  the  year 
Had  found  some  months  asleep,  and  leaped  them  over, 
The  river  hath  thrice  floVd,  no  ebb  between  ; 
And  the  old  folk,  time's  doting  chronicles. 
Say  it  did  so,  a  little  time  before 
That  our  great  grandsire,  Edward,  sick'd  and  died." 

— 2  Henry  IV. ^  iv.  4. 

So  Hubert  tells  John — 


"  They  say  five  moons  were  seen  to-night, 
Old  men,  and  beldams,  in  the  streets 
Do  prophesy  upon  it  dangerously." 

— Kiri^  John,  iv.  2. 

So  before  the  fall  of  Richard  II. — 

"  The  bay-trees  in  our  country  are  all  wither'd, 
And  meteors  fright  the  fixed  stars  of  heaven  : 
The  pale-faced  moon  looks  bloody  on  the  earth, 
And  lean-looked  prophets  whisper  fearful  change." 

— Richard  11.,  ii.  4. 

And  in  the  same  play,  Act  ii.  2,  the  presentiments 
of  the  queen  and   the  presages  of  Bagot  show  a 

1  "  Epistles  of  Comfort  to  Priests,"  c.  15.     1882. 


OTHELLO  335 

preternatural  cast  of  thought  as  the  citizen  says  in 
Richard  III.  :— 

"  Before  the  days  of  change,  still  is  it  so, 
By  a  divine  instinct  men's  minds  mistrust 
Pursuing  danger." — Richard  III.,  ii.  3. 

Mr.  Tyler  discovers  in  these  passages  and  "the 
wide  world's  prophetic  soul "  of  the  sonnets,  evidence 
of  Shakespeare's  pantheism.^  But  as  we  have  seen, 
this  "finding  of  signs  in  the  heavens"  accurately 
portrays  Catholic  feeling  prevalent  in  the  poet's 
time,  and  is  based  on  the  Gospel  teaching.  Shake- 
speare's own  opinions  of  signs  and  wonders  may 
be  gauged  on  the  one  hand  by  Lafeu's  warning, 
already  quoted  against  making  trifles  of  terrors, 
"  ensconcing  ourselves  in  seeming  knowledge  when 
we  should  submit  ourselves  to  an  unknown  fear"; 
and  on  the  other  hand  by  Edmund's  speech,  "  that  it 
is  the  foppery  of  the  world  to  make  the  stars  guilty 
of  disasters  which  we  have  brought  on  ourselves  by 
our  own  misconduct."  The  attitude  of  mind  thus 
indicated  is  the  mean  betwixt  superstition  and  scepti- 
cism or  intelligent  discriminating  faith. 

In  "  Othello  "  it  is  the  deep  moral  lesson  which 
gives  the  play  its  absorbing  interest,  and  that  we  shall 
consider  in  Chapter  IX.  The  religious  allusions  are 
on  the  side  of  Catholicism.  Shakespeare  generally 
makes  the  woman  the  embodiment  of  the  religious 
conscience.  If  so,  lago's  perpetual  mistrust  of 
^  Shakespeare's  Sonnets,  c.  11.     1890. 


336  TRAGEDIES 

woman's  honour,  and  confidence  of  his  power  of 
leading  her  astray,  is  simply  the  representation  of 
the  Machiavellian  idea  of  religion ;  and  his  assur- 
ances of  Desdemona's  fickleness  in  her  faith  are  no 
more  trustworthy  than  his  confidence  in  the  un- 
reasoning blindness  of  Othello's  love — 

"  For  her 
To  win  the  Moor — were't  to  renounce  his  baptism, 
All  seals  and  symbols  of  redeemed  sin — 
His  soul  is  so  enfettered  to  her  love 
That  she  may  make,  unmake,  do  what  she  list"  (ii,  3). 

Thus  Othello  is  represented  by  Shakespeare  as  a 
Catholic.  Witness  again  the  regimen  he  prescribes 
for  Desdemona's  imaginary  wanderings — 

"  This  hand  of  yours  requires 
A  sequester  from  liberty,  fasting,  and  prayer, 
Much  castigation,  exercise  devout ; 
For  here's  a  young  and  sweating  devil  here 
That  commonly  rebels  "  (iii.  4). 

If  there  is  anything  seeming  to  savour  of  Reformed 
doctrine,  he  puts  it  into  the  mouth  of  lago,  or  the 
drunken  Cassio,  who  in  his  cups  informs  us  in  some- 
what Calvinistic  manner — "  God's  above  all ;  and 
there  be  souls  must  be  saved,  and  there  be 
souls  must  not  be  saved  ; "  and  in  reply  to  lago's 
hope  to  be  saved,  says;  "Ay,  but  by  your  leave, 
not  before  me ;  the  lieutenant  is  to  be  saved  before 
the  ancient"  (ii.  3) — a  strange  dream,  as  if  predes- 
tination made  salvation  a  matter  of  seniority,  and 


RELIGIOUS    ALLUSIONS  337 

a   consequence    of   rank :    and   again   Othello    says 
before  he  murders  her — 

"  If  you  bethink  yourself  of  any  crime 
Unreconciled  as  yet  to  heaven  and  grace, 
Solicit  for  it  straight.  .  .  . 
I  would  not  kill  thy  unprepared  spirit ; 
No,  heaven  forfend,  I  would  not  kill  thy  soul ''  (v.  2). 

And  Gratiano  says  of  Brabantio — 

"  This  right  would  make  him  do  a  desperate  turn, 
Yea,  curse  his  better  angel  from  his  side 
And  fall  to  reprobation  "  (v.  2). 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

DIDACTIC    PLAYS. 

Mr.  Simpson  believes  that  in  the  plays  classed  in 
the  following  chapter  as  didactic  there  may  be 
traced,  besides  the  primary  moral  lesson,  certain 
covert  political  allusions  bearing  on  the  religious 
situation  of  the  poet's  time.  Commentators  of  the 
realistic  school  deny  that  Shakespeare  ever  em- 
ployed allegory  in  his  drama.  The  penetration  and 
soundness  of  his  judgment  was  seen,  they  say,  in 
the  avoidance  of  all  theories,  whether  on  politics  or 
rehgion,  and  in  confining  himself  exclusively  to  the 
psychological  development  of  character.  Now,  the 
faithful  portraiture  of  character  was  doubtless  the 
poet's  primary  intention ;  but  the  absolute  denial  of 
the  possibility  of  any  secondary  or  figurative  applica- 
tion of  his  plays  shows  a  complete  misunderstanding 
of  both  Shakespeare  and  his  times. 

Allegory  was,  indeed,  universally  employed  in  the 
Elizabethan  age.  Spenser's  "  Faerie  Queene "  was 
simply  one  long  allegorical  eulogy  of  EUzabeth, 
whose  praise  was  the  common  theme  of  writers  of 
the  day.  This  kind  of  poetry  was  specially  service- 
able for  purposes  of  attack.    Under  the  veil  of  trope, 

338 


POLITICAL   ALLUSIONS  339 

the  dramatist  could  satirise  the  object  of  his  disUke, 
whether  social,  political,  religious,  even  the  Govern- 
ment itself,  without  fear  of  losing  his  ears.  Thus 
Bale  and  Fletcher,  and  the  other  dramatists  men- 
tioned in  Chapter  II.,  attacked  the  Papists.  Lily, 
Marlowe,  Greene,  and  Nash  were  engaged  by  Arch- 
bishop Whitgift,  through  Bancroft,  to  caricature 
the  Puritans  in  revenge  for  the  Marprelate  Tracts. 
Further,  a  whole  series  of  plays — "  Gorbeduc  "  ( i  5  6 1 ), 
by  Norton;  "Damon  and  Pythias"  (before  1568), 
by  Walton;  "The  Woman  in  the  Moon"  (1597), 
"Midas"  (1592),  both  by  Lily;  Marlowe's  "  Tam- 
burlaine"  (1587),  aimed  at  exposing  the  abuses  of 
the  Government,  the  exactions  and  covetousness  of 
ministers,  the  manoeuvres  of  Elizabeth  and  her 
favourites,  or  the  despotism  of  Philip  II.  or  of 
James  of  Scotland.  Shakespeare  was  no  exception 
to  the  general  rule.  If,  as  he  tells  us  himself,  his 
purpose  was  to  "  hold  the  mirror  up  to  Nature,"  it 
must  have  been  reflected  first  from  existing  indi- 
viduals, men  and  women,  who  were  reproduced  as 
universal  types  by  his  own  genius.  A  thorough 
grasp  of  the  real  involves  no  exclusion  of  the 
universal  and  ideal.  In  truth,  the  more  thoroughly 
the  real  is  apprehended,  the  more  easy  is  it  to 
conceive  the  universal,  which  always  has  its  basis 
on  the  real. 

That  the  contemporary  public  believed  in  his 
allegory  and  unhesitatingly  interpreted  it,  there  is 
no  doubt.      EHzabeth   saw  herself  in  Richard   II., 


340  DIDACTIC   PLAYS 

Lucy  was  recognised  in  Shallow,  Cobham  in  Falstaff. 
"  This  author's  comedies,"  says  the  preface  to  the 
first  edition  of  "Troilus  and  Cressida"  in  1609, 
"  are  so  framed  to  the  life,  that  they  serve  for  the 
most  common  commentaries  of  all  the  actions  of  our 
lives."    So  again  Sir  C.  Scroop  wrote  before  1686  : — 

"  When  Shakespeare,  Joiison,  Fletcher,  ruled  the  stage, 
They  took  so  bold  a  freedom  with  the  age 
That  there  was  scarce  a  knave  or  fool  in  town 
Of  any  note  but  had  his  fortune  shown." 

— Rochester's  JForkSf  g6.     17 14. 

"They  wrote,"  says  Towers  (1657),  "in  their  neigh- 
bours' dialect,  and  brought  their  birthplace  on  the 
stage.  They  gathered  humours  from  all  kinds  of 
people.  Dogberry  was  a  constable  at  Hendon, 
Shallow  was  Lucy  with  additions  and  variations. 
They  did  not  spare  the  highest  game."  The  Lord 
Chamberlain's  players  (Shakespeare's  company)  took 
a  memorable  part  in  Essex's  conspiracy.  They  were 
called  madmen,  because  under  feigned  persons  they 
censured  their  sovereign.^  The  French  ambassador 
declared  (April  5,  1606)  that  they  treated  James  in 
the  most  unseemly  way,  making  him  curse  and  swear 
and  beat  a  gentleman  who  had  called  the  hounds 
off  the  scent  and  made  him  lose  a  bird,  and  repre- 
senting him  as  drunk  at  least  once  a  day.  And 
Chamberlain  writes  to  Winwood  about  the  trouble 
they  got  into  for  acting  the  Gowrie  conspiracy  and 
"  playing  princes  on  the  stage  in  their  lifetime."  ^ 

^  MS.  Sloane,  3543,  fol.  20.  2  y^^  Raumer,  ii.  219. 


MERCHANT   OF   VENICE  34  I 

The  possible  application  of  some  at  least  of  Shake- 
speare's plays  in  a  figurative  sense  must,  then,  we 
think,  be  admitted.  But  such  an  interpretation 
offers  no  direct  or  cogent  evidence  as  to  his  religious 
opinions.  Simpson's  readings  of  the  following  alle- 
gories are  given  because  they  are  ingenious  and 
interesting  in  themselves,  and  may  have  been  in 
the  author's  mind  as  a  possible  application  of  his 
plot,  but  they  are  not  put  forth  as  any  proof  or 
support  of  his  Catholicism.  For  that  we  need  direct 
evidence. 

According  to  Simpson,  then,  some  of  Shake- 
speare's plays  may  be  termed  didactic,  because  the 
philosophical  or  metaphysical  principle  on  which 
they  are  founded  outweighs  the  imaginative,  pas- 
sionate, and  poetical  elements  conspicuous  in  most 
of  his  dramas.  In  this  class  may  be  placed  the 
"  Merchant  of  Venice,"  "  Measure  for  Measure," 
"  Cymbeline,"  and  "  Troilus  and  Cressida."  These 
all  seem  written  for  a  political  object  and  with 
controversial  purpose.  The  "  Merchant  of  Venice  " 
appears  to  have  been,  in  all  probability,  founded 
on  another  play  called  "  The  Jew,"  which  set  forth 
"  the  greediness  of  worldly  choosers  and  the  bloody 
mind  of  usurers."  ^  Shakespeare's  adaptation  of  it, 
while  still  enforcing  its  primary,  obvious  lesson,  the 
evils  of  extortion  or  of  extortionate  contracts,  pre- 
sents secondarily  and  indirectly  a  plea  for  toleration. 
The  argument  is  all  the  more  forcible  from  being 

*  H.  Morley,  Introduction  "Merchant  of  Venice,"  6. 


342  DIDACTIC   PLAYS 

entirely  indirect,  like  the  Spartan  argument  against 
drunkenness  from  the  exhibition  of  the  drunken 
Helot.  The  persecuting  spirit  as  exhibited  in  the 
Jew  is  made  odious  and  monstrous,  and  yet  appears 
the  natural  and  inevitable  consequence  of  the  treat- 
ment he  himself  has  undergone.  Shylock  thus 
becomes  a  kind  of  mirror,  in  which  Christians  may 
see  reflected  not  only  the  consequences  but  the  very 
manner  and  tendency  of  their  own  conduct.  He  is 
what  he  is,  not  only  because  their  intolerance  has 
provoked  him  to  be  so,  but  because  his  revenge  is  a 
direct  imitation  and  reproduction  of  their  intolerance. 
Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  allegorical 
interpretation  of  the  play,  it  is  clear  that  Shake- 
speare leaves  his  readers  with  mixed  feelings  about 
Shylock.  He  is  by  no  means  an  object  of  uni- 
versal detestation.  He  has  enlisted  the  sympathy 
of  many ;  and  in  the  opinion  of  Hazlitt,  Campbell, 
and  others,  he  has  distinctly  the  best  of  Antonio 
in  such  arguments  as  the  following : — 

"He  hath  disgraced  me,'*  says  Shylock,  "and  hindered 
me  half-a-million ;  laughed  at  my  losses,  mocked  at  my 
gains,  scorned  my  nation,  thwarted  my  bargains,  cooled 
my  friends,  heated  mine  enemies;  and  what's  his  reason? 
I  am  a  Jew.  Hath  not  a  Jew  eyes?  Hath  not  a  Jew 
hands,  organs,  dimensions,  senses,  affections,  passions?  fed 
with  the  same  food,  hurt  with  the  same  weapon^,  subject 
to  the  same  diseases,  healed  by  the  same  means,  warmed 
and  cooled  by  the  same  summer  and  winter,  as  a  Christian 
is?  If  you  prick  us,  do  we  not  bleed?  If  you  tickle  us, 
do  we  not  laugh?     If  you  poison  us,  do  we  not  die?  and 


EFFECT   OF    PERSECUTION  343 

if  you  wrong  us,  shall  we  not  revenge'?  If  we  are  like 
you  in  the  rest,  we  will  resemble  you  in  that.  If  a  Jew 
wrong  a  Christian,  what  is  his  humility  1  Revenge  !  If 
a  Christian  wrong  a  Jew,  what  should  his  suffrance  be 
by  Christian  example  !  Why,  revenge !  The  villany  you 
will  teach  me,  I  will  execute,  and  it  shall  go  hard  but 
I  will  better  the  instruction." — Merchant  of  Venice,  iii.  i. 

But  it  may  be  argued  that  Shakespeare  could 
have  had  but  a  poor  opinion  of  Catholics,  if  he 
pleads  for  them  in  the  person  of  the  Jew,  and 
that  Shylock's  arguments  for  toleration  are  founded 
on  his  own  evil  passions,  which,  he  suggests,  it 
may  be  dangerous  to  inflame.  The  case,  however, 
is  argued  not  on  any  high  principles  of  truth  or 
justice,  but  simply  on  the  mechanical  principles 
of  action  and  reaction.  If  you  strike,  shall  we 
not  return  the  blow,  if  we  can  ?  If  all  your 
Christian  professions  do  not  prevent  you  from  in- 
juring us,  simply  because  we  are  what  we  are, 
you  cannot  expect  us  to  be  otherwise  than  what 
you  take  us  to  be,  or  rather  will  make  us  to  be, 
unchristian  in  our  revenges. 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  this  as  a  possible 
application  of  Shylock's  part,  the  general  tone  of 
the  play  is  decidedly  Catholic.  For  instance,  there 
is  something  very  unprotestant  in  Portia's  pre- 
tence— 

"  I  have  towards  heaven  breathed  a  secret  vow 
To  live  in  prayer  and  contemplation.  .  .  . 
There  is  a  monastery  not  two  miles  oif. 
And  there  will  we  abide"  (iii.  4). 


344  DIDACTIC   PLAYS 

And  in  the  belief  of  her  attendants  that  she  was 
"  straying  about  by  holy  crosses,  kneeling  and 
praying  for  happy  wedlock  hours,"  accompanied  by 
"  a  holy  hermit  and  her  maid  "  (v.  i ). 

But  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  religious  allu- 
sion of  the  play  is  Bassanio's  speech  before  the 
Caskets.  His  theme  is,  "  The  world  is  still  deceived 
by  ornament."  This  he  illustrates  by  the  practice 
of  the  pleader  who  by  his  ornamental  eloquence 
v/  hides  the  taint  and  corruption  of  evil  from  the 
judge,  and  persuades  him  to  acquit  it.  He  then 
turns  to  religion — and  where  should  we  expect 
him  to  find  his  great  example  of  religious  decep- 
tion by  means  of  ornament  ?  A  faithful  follower 
of  the  "Book  of  Common  Prayer"  would  have 
referred  to  those  ceremonies  which  the  wisdom 
of  our  Reformers  abolished,  because  though  at  first 
they  were  "  of  godly  intent  and  purpose  devised, 
yet  at  length  turned  to  vanity  and  superstition." 
He  would  have  been  eloquent  upon  the  "  mum- 
meries and  trumperies"  of  beads,  vestments,  in- 
cense, lights,  music,  bells,  processions,  and  imposing 
functions ;  but  instead  of  this  we  have  only — 

"  In  religion 
What  damned  error,  but  some  sober  brow 
Will  bless  it  and  approve  it  with  a  text 
,     Hiding  the  grossness  with  fair  ornament  ? " 

This  is   indeed  the  very  opposite  teaching.     It  is 
not,    it    appears,    the    Popish    ceremonial    but    the 


THE   GUILIET)   SHORE  345 

Protestant  text  divinity  which  is  the  false  orna- 
ment in  religion.  To  a  dramatist  Catholicism 
would  indeed  naturally  commend  itself  as  a  cere- 
monial religion.  Thus  Marlowe  is  reported  to  have 
said  "That  if  there  be  any  God  or  true  religion, 
then  it  is  with  the  Papists,  because  the  service 
of  God  is  performed  with  more  ceremonies,  as 
elevation  of  the  mass,  organs,  singing  men,  shaven 
crowns,  &c.,  and  that  if  Christ  had  instituted  the 
sacrament  with  more  ceremonial  reverence  it  would 
have  been  had  in  more  admiration."^  We  have 
already  seen  how  largely  Shakespeare's  imagery  is 
drawn  from  Catholic  sources,  especially  the  solemn 
ceremonial  of  the  sacrifice  in  the  "  Winter's  Tale." 
But  while  Marlowe  and  Shakespeare  were  thus 
agreed  on  the  preference  for  Catholicism  from  this 
point  of  view  there  was  a  wide  difference  between 
their  opinions.  Marlowe's  was  merely  an  aesthetic 
preference  unconnected  with  any  moral  or  religious 
principle.  In  Shakespeare  it  is  an  organic  member 
of  the  body  of  his  opinions  and  ideas,  and  harmonises 
exactly  with  all  that  has  been  deduced  from  other 
passages  in  his  writings. 

This  estimate  of  the  deceptive  character  of  the 
scriptural  argument  of  his  day — which  he  calls 
"  the  guiled  shore  to  a  most  dangerous  sea,"  the 
"  seeming  truth  which  cunning  times  put  on  to 
entrap  the  wisest"  (iii.  2),  gives  point  and  applica- 
tion to  other  passages  in  the  same  play  which  have 

^  Barnes'  note  on  Marlowe's  opinion. 


346  DIDACTIC  PLAYS 

generally  been  supposed  to  refer  to  the  Puritans  of 
Shakespeare's  day.     For  instance — 

"  There  are  a  sort  of  men  whose  visages 
Do  cream  and  mantle  like  a  standing  pond 
And  do  a  wilful  stillness  entertain, 
With  purpose  to  be  dressed  in  an  opinion 
Of  wisdom,  gravity,  profound  conceit, 
As  who  should  say,  '  I  am  Sir  Oracle, 
And  when  I  ope  my  mouth  let  no  dog  bark ' "  (i.  i). 

or  the  passage  (ii.  2)  where  Gratiano  describes 
the  puritanic  behaviour  of  "  one  well  studied  in 
a  sad  ostent  to  please  his  grandam  " ;  or  Antonio's 
reflection  on  Shylock — 

"  The  devil  can  cite  Scripture  for  his  purpose. 
An  evil  soul  producing  holy  witness 
Is  like  a  villain  with  a  smiling  cheek, 
A  goodly  apple  rotten  at  the  heart : 
O,  what  a  goodly  outside  falsehood  hath  ! "  (i.  3). 

It  is  instructive  to  see  how  in  Shakespeare's  mind 
this  devil  quoting  Scripture,  this  "sober -brow" 
approving  a  damned  error  with  a  text  (iii.  2), 
was  connected  with  his  favourite  image  of  a  smiling 
villain.  It  adds  a  new  meaning  to  the  hypocrisy 
of  Richard  III. — "  I  can  smile,  and  murder  while 
I  smile"  ("3  Hen.  VI.,"  iii.  2);  and  to  Hamlet's 
great  discovery  of  the  possibilities  of  human  nature 
in  Denmark  at  least  —  "A  man  may  smile  and 
smile,  and  be  a  villain  "  ("  Hamlet,"  i.  5).  The  play, 
then,  is  not  only  a  triumphant  argument  against 
persecution,  but  a  satire  upon  hypocrisy,  convicting 


THE   RACK  347 

the  religious  pretenders  of  the  time  of  the  very 
vices  which  they  charged  to  the  Papists.  To  him 
who  reads  the  play  from  the  point  of  view  of  an 
Elizabethan  Catholic,  many  fragments  start  into 
new  life — as  when  Antonio  says,  in  reference  to 
his  floating  ventures — 

"  Should  I  go  to  church 
And  see  the  holy  edifice  of  stone, 
And  not  bethink  me  straight  of  dangerous  rocks  ?"  (i.  i). 

And,  when  Portia  says  to  Bassanio  (iii.  2),  "I  fear 
you  speak  upon  the  rack,  where  men  enforced  do 
speak  anything,"  is  not  this  an  expression  of  con- 
temptuous disbelief  in  all  the  evidence  upon  which 
so  many  pretended  Popish  conspirators  suffered  the 
death  of  traitors  in  the  days  of  Shakespeare  ?  The 
scandalous  use  of  the  rack  to  get  evidence  for  any 
mare's  nest  was  complained  of  by  Selden.  "  The 
rack  is  used  nowhere  as  in  England :  in  other  coun- 
tries it  is  used  in  judicature  when  there  is  a  semi- 
plena  prdbatio,  a  half-proof  against  a  man ;  then  to 
see  if  they  can  make  it  full,  they  rack  him  if  he  will 
not  confess ;  but  here  in  England  they  take  a  man 
and  rack  him,  I  do  not  know  why  nor  when — not 
in  time  of  judicature,  but  when  somebody  bids."  ^ 

It  is  interesting  to  remark  how  throughout  almost 
the  whole  play  Shakespeare  gives  way  to  the  didactic 
spirit.  The  characters  arc  sententious,  and  deliver 
wise  saws  beyond  precedent,  and   in    the    present 

1  Table  Talk,  sub  voce  ''Trial." 


34^  DIDACTIC   PLAYS 

instance  they  seem  to  extend  the  action  of  the  play, 
after  the  dramatic  interest  has  ceased.  The  conclu- 
sion of  the  play  is  the  discomfiture  of  Shyloek  in 
Act  iv.  Act  V.  is  a  most  charming  and  poetical 
idyll,  tempered  with  philosophy;  but  it  hangs  fire 
after  the  dramatic  passion  of  the  trial  scene,  and  is 
therefore  generally  omitted  in  acting.  It  contains, 
however,  some  gems  of  the  kind  proper  to  our 
subject.  Lorenzo's  discourses  on  the  harmony  of 
creation,  audible  to  immortal  souls,  aheady  quoted, 
and  on  the  power  of  music  (v.  i),  are  both  in  this 
act.  So  also  is  Portia's  philosophy  of  respect. 
"  Nothing  is  good  without  respect,"  or  the  true  rela- 
tion of  a  thing  to  its  time,  manner,  circumstances, 
for  by  this  alone  things  obtain  their  fitness,  and 
fulfil  their  respective  parts.  The  same  axiom  is 
repeated  a  few  lines  later.  "  Things  by  reason 
seasoned  are  to  their  right  praise  and  true  perfec- 
tion."    Both  these  speeches  reiterate  the  doctrine  of 

y  the  necessity  of  priority,  order,  and  degree  in  the 
political  as  in  the  natural  order.  In  the  scenes  at 
the  Caskets  (ii.  7  and  ii.  9),  Shakespeare  makes 
the  proud  Moorish  prince  and  the  "idiot"  of  Ara- 

y  gon  discourse  as  wisely  as  Polonius  to  Laertes.  It 
is  to  be  noted  that  it  is  quite  characteristic  of 
Shakespeare  to  distinguish  his  fools,  not  by  their 
foolish  sayings,  but  by  their  foolish  doings.  This 
ideal  of  folly  is  not  so  much  the  inanity  of  Slender, 
Simple,  or  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek,  as  a  certain  want 
of  connection  between  the  understanding  and   the 


**  MEASURE    FOR   MEASURE**  349 

practical  reason,  a  sharp  sight  Avith  a  Avant  of  judg- 
ment to  choose.     Such  as  Portia  describes — 

"  O  these  deliberate  fools  !     When  they  do  choose 
They  have  the  wisdom  by  their  wit  to  lose"  (ii.  9). 

"  Measure  for  Measure  "  is  another  of  the  didactic 
plays,  with  a  purpose  similar  to  that  of  the  "  Mer- 
chant of  Venice,"  for  it  is  a  kind  of  discussion  on 
the  penal  code.  As  in  "  King  John "  the  several 
theories  of  extraneous  interference  in  the  quarrels  of 
a  kingdom  successively  appear,  and  solve  themselves 
by  the  mere  progress  of  the  history,  so  in  "  Measure 
for  Measure  "  do  several  theories  of  penal  law  crop 
up  to  give  rise  to  endless  complications,  and  to 
refute  themselves  by  their  impracticability.  "  Measure 
for  Measure  "  was  acted  twice  before  James  I.  and 
his  court  in  the  first  year  of  his  reign,  at  the  time 
when  the  king  was  assailed  on  all  sides,  especially 
by  the  Catholics,  with  requests  to  mitigate  the 
bloody  laws  of  England.  When  James  made  his 
triumphal  entry  into  London,  Alleyne  the  actor 
recited  to  him  the  lines  of  Ben  Jonson,  where  the 
coming  of  the  new  king  was  said  to  have 

"  Made  men  see 
Once  more  the  face  of  welcome  liberty  ; " 

to  have  restored  the  golden  age,  rescued  innocence 
from  ravenous  greatness,  stayed  the  evictions  of  the 
peasantry,  alleviated  the  fears  of  the  rich  to  be 
made  guilty  for  their  wealth,  and  diminished  the 


350  DIDACTIC   PLAYS 

murderous  lust  of  vile  spies.  When  three  days 
later  (March  19,  1603)  he  rode  to  Parliament  for 
the  first  time,  Ben  Jonson  made  Themis  rehearse  to 
him  "  All  the  cunning  tracts  and  thriving  statutes," 
while  afterwards 

"  The  bloody,  base,  and  barbarous  she  did  quote  ; 
Where  laws  were  made  to  serve  the  tyrant's  will, 
Where  sleeping  they  could  save,  and  waking  kill." 

About  the  same  time  the  CathoUcs  of  England 
were  preparing  an  address  to  James,  protesting  their 
loyalty,  and  begging  for  a  mitigation  of  the  "  cruel 
persecution  which  had  made  England  odious,  caused 
the  decay  of  trade,  the  shedding  of  blood,  and  an 
unprecedented  increase  of  subsidies  and  taxes,  and 
discontented  minds  innumerable."  Let  "  the  lenity 
of  a  man,"  they  said,  "  re-edify  that  which  the  unin- 
formed anger  of  a  woman  destroyed."  One  of  the 
advisers  of  the  Catholics,  whose  letter  is  preserved 
in  the  State  Paper  office,  declared  that  one  of  the 
first  things  to  be  done  was  to  petition  for  liberty  of 
religion,  and  abrogation  of  those  bloody  laws,  and  also 
to  impress  strongly  on  the  king  that  nothing  could 
tend  more  to  the  security  of  his  person  and  assurance 
of  his  estate,  than  to  show  favour  and  grace  to  the 
CathoUcs,  by  which  he  would  cut  off  all  practices 
against  his  estate  and  person,  seeing  the  Catholics, 
by  the  cruelty  of  the  bloody  laws  and  intolerable 
burden  of  persecution,  had  either  just  cause,  or  show 
of  just  cause,  to  piursue  their  liberties  by  all  means, 


JAMES   I.    AND   CATHOLICS  351 

and  with  all  princes,  to  the  utmost  of  their  power. 
Whereas  favour  shown  to  the  Catholics  Avould  not 
only  assure  the  king  from  all  attempts  of  foreigners 
who  cannot  take  hold  of  England  but  by  a  party  at 
home,  but  also  fortify  the  throne  against  the  inso- 
lence of  the  Puritans.^  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  was  an 
advocate  on  the  same  side,  as  we  may  see  from  his 
letter  to  Nottingham  in  Cayley's  "  Life  of  Raleigh."  ^ 
It  will  be  seen  that  the  reasoning  just  described  is 
exactly  like  that  in  the  "  Merchant  of  Venice — a 
dissuasion  from  violence  on  the  ground  that  it  is 
a  game  at  which  two  can  play.  The  same  argu- 
ment was  employed  in  Father  Parsons'  "  Memorial " 
(p.  248),  and  it  reappears  some  two  centuries  later 
as  the  main  foundation  of  the  famous  letters  of 
Peter  Ply m ley. 

It  looks  as  if  the  play  had  been  composed  for 
James.     When  the  Duke  says — 

"  I  love  the  people, 
But  do  not  like  to  stage  me  to  their  eyes  : 
Though  it  do  well,  I  do  not  relish  well 
Their  loud  applause  and  Aves  vehement : 
Nor  do  I  think  the  man  of  safe  discretion 
That  does  affect  it »  (i.  i). 

It  reminds  one  of  the  king's  proclamation  about  the 
throngs  which  pressed  round  him  in  his  journey 
from  Scotland. 

The  Duke's  treatment  of  Lucio  seems  inconsistent 

^  Dom.  James  I.,  vol.  vi.  Nos.  56  and  63. 
2  Vol  ii.  p.  II. 


35 2  DIDACTIC   PLAYS 

with  the  general  scope  of  the  argument,  while  the 
most  atrocious  criminals  are  let  off  free,  or  even 
rewarded.  Lucio,  the  good-natured,  hare-brained,  is 
punished  with  something  worse  than  "pressing  to 
death,  whipping  and  hanging,"  only  because,  as 
the  Duke  says,  "  slandering  a  prince  deserves  it " 
(v.  i).  Yet  this  severity  fits  in  so  well  with  the 
notions  of  James  about  the  sanctity  of  his  royal 
person,  that  it  would  appear  that  Shakespeare  must 
have  introduced  the  glaring  injustice  for  the  pur- 
pose of  satire.  It  is  as  if  he  said:  I  argue  for 
relaxation  of  penalties  for  all  crimes  except  slander- 
ing your  sacred  person,  which  is  of  so  deep  die, 
so  murderous,  so  bm-glarious  and  wanton  that  the 
traitorous  traducer  deserves  all  you  can  lay  upon 
him ;  as  you  are  crazy  on  that  point,  I  waive  it. 
It  is  not  to  be  denied,  however,  that  Lucio's  cha- 
racter is  of  the  kind  on  which  Shakespeare  was 
always  most  severe.  Licentious  as  FalstafF,  of  un- 
governable tongue,  and  though  wilUng  enough  to 
do  friendly  offices,  in  the  end,  from  mere  levity,  he 
turns  round  on  his  friends,  and  bears  false  wit- 
ness against  the  only  witness  who  could  entirely 
acquit  them  (v.  i). 

The  argument  in  "  Measure  for  Measure "  is 
not  for  the  repeal  of  the  penal  laws,  but  for 
allowing  them  to  lie  dormant.  The  prerogative 
of  the  governor  is  said  to  be  "  so  to  enforce  and 
qualify  the  laws  as  to  his  soul  seems  good "  (i.  i ), 
and  James  seems  to  be  invited  to  commit  his  pre- 


THE   PENAL   CODE  353 

rogative  for  a  season  to  some  upright  viceroy,  and 
himself  to  retire  behind  the  scenes,  and  observe 
not  only  how  his  substitute  behaves,  but  how  the 
laws  themselves  suit  the  commonwealth.  The 
dramatic  interest  of  the  play  henceforth  divides 
itself  from  its  philosophic  interest.  Dramatically, 
it  is  the  trial  and  fall  of  Angelo  and  the  trial  and 
triumph  of  Isabella.  Philosophically,  it  is  the  trial 
and  condemnation  of  the  penal  code. 

The  title  "  Measure  for  Measure  "  is  the  accurate 
summary  of  the  theory  of  punishment  which  the 
poet  advocates.  In  this  world  neither  reward  nor 
punishment  should  be  given  for  what  a  man  is,  but 
only  for  what  he  does.  "  If  our  virtues  did  not  go 
forth  of  us,  'twere  all  alike  as  if  we  had  them 
not "  (i.  I ) ;  and  on  the  other  side,  "  What's  open 
made  to  justice,  that  justice  seizes,"  "  What  we  do 
not  see,  we  do  not  think  of "  (ii.  i ).  To  Shake- 
speare the  great  test  of  virtue  is  its  inability  to  be 
hid,  like  the  candle  on  the  candlestick,  or  the  city 
on  the  hill;  hence  his  impatience  under  calumny, 
and  under  the  loss  of  that  "just  pleasure"  which 
follows  the  public  recognition  of  worth. 

"  'Tis  better  to  be  vile  than  vile  esteemed 
When  not  be,  receives  reproach  of  being ; 
And  the  just  pleasure  lost,  which  is  so  deemed 
Not  by  our  feeling,  but  by  other's  seeing." 

— Sonnet  cxxi. 

There  are  three  propositions  about  the  penal  law 
which  Shakespeare   develops  in  this  play.     To  be 


354  DIDACTIC  PLAYS 

punishable,  a  man  must  do  something;  he  cannot 
be  punished  for  what  he  is.  This,  however,  is  not 
the  theory  of  society. 

"  We're  nettles,  some  of  us, 
And  give  offence  by  the  act  of  springing  up  ; 
And  if  we  leave  the  damp  side  of  the  wall, 
The  hoes,  of  course,  are  on  us." 

— Mrs.  Browning,  Aurora  Leigh,  p.  119,  ist  ed. 

Nor  was  it  the  theory  of  EHzabethan  legislators. 
For  them,  to  be  a  CathoHc  was  to  be  guilty  of  mis- 
prision of  treason ;  to  be  a  seminary  priest  was  to  be 
a  traitor.  "  Because  he  liketh  mutton,  therefore  he 
hath  stolen  a  sheep,"  said  Campion  at  his  trial,  and 
for  a  priest  to  be  caught  in  England  was  death. 
In  other  words,  there  was  a  kind  of  original  sin 
in  criminality.  Men  grew  guilty  without  doing 
anything.  To  be  a  player  was  to  be  a  rogue  and 
a  vagabond.  To  be  a  vagrant  was  to  be  a  rogue. 
As  it  was  a  crime  against  the  Revolution  of 
1789  to  be  born  noble,  so  it  was  treason  against 
Elizabeth  to  be  born  a  CathoUc.  Some  people 
were  vermin  by  nature,  and  the  sentence  upon 
such  a  man  was — 

"  Let  him  die,  in  that  he  is  a  fox, 
By  nature  proved  an  enemy  to  the  flock." 

— 2  Henry  VI.  y  iii.  i. 

The  next  point  is,  to  be  punishable  a  man  must 
not  be  merely  a  sinner,  he  must  be  a  criminal. 
The  sin  comes  not  under  the  rod  of  the  law.     "  'Tis 


EXTERNAL   ACTS    ALONE    CRIMES  355 

set  down  so  in  heaven,  but  not  in  earth  "  (ii.  4). 
And  next,  the  crime  must  be  overt,  it  must  be 
done,  not  merely  thought  or  intended.  "  Thoughts 
are  no  subjects ;  intents  but  merely  thoughts  "  (v.  i ). 
These  two  propositions  are  in  exact  accordance 
with  the  Church's  teaching  on  ecclesiastical  as  well 
as  civil  jurisdiction.  In  the  external  forum,  that 
is,  in  any  extra-sacramental  tribunal,  the  Church 
takes  cognisance  only  of  external  acts.  What  is 
internal,  thought,  desire,  and  purpose,  belongs  to  the 
forum  coTiscientice,  and  is  dealt  with  in  secret  in  the 
sacrament  of  penance,  where  the  penitent  alone  is 
his  own  accuser.  Statesmen  in  Shakespeare's  day 
held  exactly  the  opposite  teaching,  and  claimed  to 
punish  thought  as  well  as  act.  James  himself  con- 
sidered that  he  bore  the  sword  to  smite  sin  as  well 
as  crime,  and  it  was  quite  an  inveterate  notion 
of  Elizabeth's  days  that  all  Catholics  being  guilty 
of  treason  in  the  first  degree,  that  is,  being  neces- 
sarily discontented  and  hostile  to  the  laws  and  the 
regimen  established,  were  punishable,  though  they 
had  never  exhibited  their  disaffection  in  any  overt 
act. 

It  is  with  reference  to  the  magistrate,  punishing 
sin  as  such,  that  Shakespeare  in  this  play  enunciates 
the  two  extraordinary  principles  that  no  one  who 
has  committed  an  offence  has  a  right  to  punish 
another  for  an  offence  of  the  same  kind,  and  that 
no  criminal  should  be  punished  capitally  till  he  was 
religiously  prepared  and  ready  to  die. 


3S6  DIDACTIC   PLAYS 

(i)  "  He  who  the  sword  of  heaven  wiU  bear 
Should  be  as  holy  as  severe  ; 
Pattern  in  himself  to  know  ; 
Grace  to  stand,  and  virtue  go  ; 
More  nor  less  to  others  paying 
Than  by  self  offences  weighing. 
Shame  to  him  whose  cruel  striking 
Kills  for  faults  of  his  own  liking  "  (ii.  2). 

This  doctrine  runs  through  the  play.  Angelo  says 
to  Escalus — 

"  You  may  not  so  extenuate  his  offence 
For  I  have  had  such  faults ;  but  rather  tell  me 
When  I  that  censure  him  do  so  offend, 
Let  mine  own  judgment  pattern  out  my  death, 
And  nothing  come  in  partial "  (ii.  i). 

Isabella  pleads  it  to  Angelo — 

"  How  would  you  be 
If  He  which  is  the  top  of  judgment,  should 
But  judge  you  as  you  are  ? "  (ii.  2). 

And  in  the  last  scene,  the  Duke  pretends  to  dis- 
believe Isabella's  story — 

"  It  imports  no  reason, 
That  with  such  vehemency  he  should  pursue 
Faults  proper  to  himself  ;  if  he  had  so  offended. 
He  would  have  weighed  thy  brother  by  himself, 
And  not  have  cut  him  off"  (v.  i). 

This  doctrine  becomes  all  the  more  pungent,  sup- 
posing that  the  argument  is  for  the  mitigation  of 
the  penal  laws,  when  we  remember  how  James  from 
time  to  time,  all  through  his  life,  coquetted  with 
the  Pope.     This  was  not  imknown  to  the  CathoUcs. 


ABSOLUTION  BEFORE    EXECUTION  357 

Almost  as  soon  as  James  ascended  the  throne,  one 
Phihp  May,  who,  like  Shakespeare  himself,  was  one 
of  the  servants  of  Lord  Chamberlain  Hunsdon,  was 
committed  to  the  Tower  for  asserting  that  the  King 
was  a  favourer  of  Catholics,  and  for  using  threats 
against  him  if  he  rejected  the  bills  to  be  brought 
into  ParHament  for  their  toleration.^  Father  Par- 
sons also  wrote  about  "the  sums  of  money  and 
other  presents "  which  he  had  "  procured  both 
from  the  King  of  Spain  and  Pope  Gregory  XIII. 
towards  the  maintenance  of  a  guard  for  safety 
of  his  Majesty's  person  in  Scotland  "  in  the  days 
of  his  trouble  there.^ 

(2)  The  second  corollary  that  Shakespeare  de- 
duces from  the  theory  that  penal  law  punishes 
sin  as  sin,  is  that  no  criminal  can  be  put  to  death 
till  he  is  spiritually  prepared  for  it.  The  Duke 
finds  Bernardino 

"  A  creature  unprepared,  unmeet  for  death, 
And  to  transport  him  in  the  mind  he  is, 
Were  damnable  "  (iv.  3), 

and  in  the  end  forgives  his  earthly  faults,  and 
commits  him  to  Friar  Peter  to  mend  him  (v.  i). 
He  refuses  to  play  into  the  devil's  hand  by  send- 
ing the  sinner,  unrepenting,  and  unshriven,  into  the 
next  world. 

The  story  of  Bernardino  seems  to  be  taken  from 
the  Life  of  St.  Bernard,^  when  the  saint  saves  a  thief 

^  Dom.  James  I.,  vol.  i.  Nos.  31-35,  42,  and  66,  April  19,  1603. 
2  Ibid.,  No.  84.  3  Yita.  I.  Lib.  vii.  c.  xv.  ed.  Mabillon. 


3  58  Dro ACTIO  PLAYS 

whom  Count  Theobald  had  ordered  to  be  hanged. 
Bernard  met  the  procession,  and  laid  hold  of  the 
thief.  "What  are  you  doing?"  said  the  Coimt; 
"  why  save  from  hell  a  criminal  a  thousand  times 
condemned  ?  You  cannot  save  him,  he  is  all  devil. 
There  is  no  cure  for  him  but  death.  Let  the  son  of 
perdition  go  to  perdition,  for  his  life  is  a  peril  to  the 
lives  of  many."  Bernard  replied,  "  I  know  he  is  a 
villanous  thief,  and  deserves  every  torture.  I  will 
not  let  him  off;  I  mean  to  deliver  him  to  the  tor- 
mentors, and  to  punish  him  better,  because  longer. 
You  had  sentenced  him  to  a  momentary  penalty ;  I 
will  give  him  a  lifelong  death.  You  would  have 
gibbeted  him  for  a  few  days ;  I  will  make  him 
live  on  the  cross  for  many  a  year."  Then  he  took 
him  to  Clairvaux  and  made  a  monk  of  him,  and 
called  him  Brother  Constantius;  and  he  lived  a 
holy  life  for  thirty  years  in  the  Abbey,  and  died 
a  saint. 

The  play  of  "  Measure  for  Measure "  is  again 
Catholic  in  tone.  Mr.  Bohn,  it  is  true,  ventures 
to  call  it  "  distinctly  anti-Romish."  ^  It  is  difficult 
to  see  on  what  he  foimds  his  opinicm,  except 
it  may  be  the  second  scene,  where  Lucio  talks 
of  the  sanctimonius  pirate,  who  went  to  sea  with 
the  ten  commandments,  but  scraped  one  out  of 
the  table,  "  thou  shalt  not  steal."  Catholics  had 
been  accused  of  erasing  a  commandment,  because 
they  adopted  a  different  division  of  them  from  that 

^  "  Biography  and  Bibliography  of  Shakespeare,"  278. 


VOTARESS   OF   ST.   CLARE  3  59 

used  by  the  Protestants.  Lucio's  remark  does  not 
apply  to  them ;  it  rather  appUes  to  the  argument 
of  the  play,  which  is  in  part  that  the  guilty  judge 
destroys  the  law  wherein  he  is  guilty,  because  he 
destroys  his  right  to  punish. 

This  is  the  only  passage  of  the  play  which  could 
by  any  possibility  bear  an  anti-Catholic  interpreta- 
tion. In  all  the  rest  the  tone  is  distinctly  Catholic. 
Isabella's  moral  grandeur  has  been  already  dis- 
cussed. The  description  of  her  as  a  fervent  novice 
shows  complete  familiarity  with  the  details  of  life 
in  religion.  She  desires  no  more  privileges,  but 
rather  wishes  a  more  strict  restraint  upon  the 
sisterhood,  the  votaries  of  St.  Clare  (i.  4),  and  she 
is  distinctly  said  to  be  yet  unsworn,  in  order  to 
prepare  for  her  wedding  at  the  end. 

"  You  are  yet  unsworn. 
When  you  have  vowed,  you  must  not  speak  with  men 
But  in  the  presence  of  the  Prioress  ; 
Then  if  you  speak,  you  must  not  show  your  face. 
Or  if  you  show  your  face,  you  must  not  speak  "  (i.  4). 

Religious  and  CathoHc  is  her  ofifer  to  bribe  Angelo, 

not  with  gold, 

"  But  with  true  prayers 
That  shall  be  up  at  heaven,  and  enter  there 
E'er  sunrise,  prayers  from  preserved  souls. 
From  fasting  maids,  whose  minds  are  dedicate 
To  nothing  temporal "  (ii.  2). 

Then  the  Duke,  disguised  as  a  Friar,  only  exhibits 


36o  DIDACTIC   PLAYS 

in  his  disguise  to  what  honourable  purposes  the 
Friars  appHed  themselves — 

"  Bound  by  my  charity  and  my  blest  order 
I  come  to  visit  the  afflicted  spirits 
Here  in  the  prison  "  (ii.  3). 

And  he  catechises  Mariana  on  the  subject  of  penance 
like  a  Catholic  divine,  while  she  answers  him  as  a 
Catholic  penitent  would — 

"  I  do  repent  me  as  it  is  an  evil 
And  bear  the  shame  with  joy  "  (ii.  3). 

The  distinction  of  repenting  for  the  sin  and  re- 
joicing at  the  temporal  evil  incurred  by  it  is  a 
feature  that  would  hardly  have  suggested  itseK  to 
a  Protestant,  unless,  like  Jeremy  Taylor,  he  was 
compiling  from  Catholic  sources, 

A  pungent  satire  on  the  union  of  licentiousness 
and  Puritan  cant  is  found  in  the  list  of  prisoners 
under  Pompey's  care,  who  are  "  all  great  doers  in  our 
trade  (scortatores),  and  are  now  in  for  the  Lord's 
sake"  (iv.  3).  ^ 

Familiarity  with  Catholic  forms  of  speech  seems 
also  to  manifest  itself  in  the  Duke's  reply  to  Elbow's 
"  Bless  you,  good  father  friar,"  "And  you,  good  brother 
father  "  (iii.  2) ;  and  in  Mrs.  Overdone's  declaration 
that  Lucio's  child  is  a  year  old  come  Philip  and 
Jacob  (iii.  2).  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  trace 
of  anti-Romish  feeling  in  the  Duke's  description 
of  himself — 


THE    OBLIGATION    OF   TRUTH-TELLING     36 1 

"  I  am  a  brother 
Of  gracious  order,  late  come  from  the  See 
On  special  business  from  his  Holiness  "  (iii.  2)  ; 

or  in  the  sketch  of  the  times  which  he  gives  in  that 
character  :  "  There  is  so  great  a  fever  of  goodness, 
that  the  dissohition  of  it  must  cure  it ;  novelty  is 
only  in  request :  and  it  is  as  dangerous  to  be  aged 
in  any  kind  of  course,  as  it  is  virtuous  to  be  constant 
in  any  undertaking.  There  is  scarce  truth  enough 
alive  to  make  societies  secure ;  but  security  enough 
to  make  fellowships  accursed :  much  upon  this 
riddle  runs  the  wisdom  of  the  world." 

Isabella's  doubt  as  to  following  the  advice  of 
the  disguised  Duke,  and  swearing  that  Angelo  had 
achieved  his  purpose,  is  remarkable. 

"  To  speak  so  indirectly  I  am  loth. 
I  would  say  the  truth  .  .  . 
.  .  .  yet  I  am  advised  to  do  it "  (iv.  6), 

because  it  must  have  reminded  Shakespeare's  audi- 
ence of  an  incident  that  had  been  much  talked  of 
in  1595.  In  that  year  Blessed  Robert  Southwell, 
the  Jesuit  martyr,  a  poet  of  whom  Ben  Jonson  spoke 
to  Drummond  with  admiration,  and  to  whose  pieces 
Shakespeare  paid  the  compliment  of  imitation,  was 
tried  for  saying  Mass  at  Mr.  Bellamy's  at  Harrow- 
on-the-Hill.  A  servant  girl  of  the  family  swore 
that  he  had  not  said  Mass  there.  But  her  evidence 
broke  down,  and  she  then  confessed  that  in  swearing 
as  she  did  she  had  acted  on  the  advice  of  the 
Jesuit.     Hereupon  grave  scandal  arose ;  the  popular 


362  DIDACTIC  PLAYS 

belief  was  encouraged  that  Catholics  cared  nothing 
for  oaths  or  for  the  truth.  What,  then,  were 
Shakespeare's  views  on  the  point  ? 

If  his  argument  in  "  Measure  for  Measure  "  is  that 
human  law  has  nothing  to  do  with  sin,  but  only  with 
crime,  or  injustice,  he  must  necessarily  have  con- 
sidered truth  in  its  double  aspect ;  as  a  debt  owed 
to  God  by  man,  and  as  a  debt  owed  by  man  to  his 
neighbour.  Prescinding  for  the  moment  from  the 
first  aspect  of  truth,  under  the  second  it  is  possible 
to  inquire,  whether  truthfulness  is  a  debt  of  justice 
to  men  who  seek  it  to  treat  you  unjustly  ?  If  you 
are  condemned  for  being  what  you  are — CathoUc 
or  Puritan — you  are  not  bound  to  criminate  yourself 
by  confessing  what  you  are;  and  if  your  silence 
under  interrogatories  would  condemn  you,  you  have 
a  right,  so  far  as  your  oppressors  are  concerned,  to 
give  an  ambiguous  answer.  Between  man  and  man, 
unjust  oppression  is  the  natural  parent  of  equivoca- 
tion, and  justifies  it.  Under  all  ordinary  aspects  of 
life  I  am  bound  to  tell  you  the  truth ;  but  if 
you  wish  to  compel  me  to  tell  the  truth,  in  order  to 
found  on  my  confession  your  right  to  punish  me 
unjustly,  I  have  a  right  to  let  you  be  deceived.  Such 
was  Southwell's  defence  of  what  he  had  done.  "  I 
ask  you,  Mr.  Attorney,"  said  he,  "  if  the  French  King 
were  to  invade  the  realm,  and  capture  the  city,  and 
search  for  the  Queen  hidden  in  some  corner  of  the 
palace,  which  you  knew,  and  if  you  were  taken,  and 
examined  upon  oath  where   she  was,  what  would 


FATHER  Southwell's  defence   363 

you  do  ?  To  boggle  is  to  tell ;  to  refuse  to  swear 
is  to  betray.  What  would  you  say  ?  You  would 
go  and  show  the  place !  and  would  not  everybody 
call  you  a  traitor  ?  You  would  then,  if  you  were 
wise,  swear  you  knew  not,  or  that  you  knew 
she  was  not  there.  .  .  .  This  is  our  state :  the 
Catholics  are  in  jeopardy  of  goods,  liberty,  and  life, 
if  they  harbour  a  priest.  Who  will  prevent  their 
seeking  safety  in  a  doubtful  answer  ?  For  in  mat- 
ters of  this  kind  there  are  three  things  to  be 
regarded.  First,  that  injustice  will  be  done  if  you 
do  not  swear.  Next,  that  you  are  not  bound  to 
answer  every  question ;  and  lastly,  that  any  oath  is 
lawful,  if  you  can  take  it  with  truth,  judgment,  and 
justice."  ^  The  controversy  reached  its  head  in  1 606, 
after  Father  Garnet's  trial,  when  he  had  said  that 
"equivocation"  was  not  lying,  but  a  peculiarity  in 
the  use  of  certain  propositions.  "  For  a  man  may 
be  asked  of  one  who  hath  no  authority  to  inter- 
rogate, or  examined  concerning  something  that 
belongeth  not  to  his  cognisance  who  asketh.  No 
man  may  equivocate  when  he  ought  to  tell  the 
truth :  otherwise  he  may." 

The  Catholic  doctrine,  then,  was  that  words  are  a 
coin,  which  must  in  justice  be  sterUng  when  we  pay 
our  just  debts  with  it,  but  which  may  be  counterfeit 
when  we  put  it  off  on  a  thief.  An  oath  only  adds 
an  additional  sanction  to  an  existing  duty,  but  does 
not  change  its  nature.     What  I  may  declare  I  may, 

^  More,  Hist.  Prov.  Anglic.  Soc,  Jes.,  Lib.  v.  No.  29. 


364  DIDACTIC   PLAYS 

if  need  be,  swear.  Before  an  unjust  judge,  or  in 
presence  of  a  tyrannical  law,  equivocation  with  oath 
is  exactly  as  lawful  as  equivocation  without  oath; 
and  ujQder  such  circumstances  it  may  be  your  duty 
to  say  what  is  only  in  one  respect  true,  for  perhaps 
you  can  only  be  true  to  those  to  whom  you  owe 
fidelity  by  thus  veiling  truth  to  others.  This  is  the 
doctrine  of  Shakespeare  in  "  Measure  for  Measure  " ; 
the  very  title  of  the  play,  moralised  as  it  is  in 
Act  V.  I,  implies  it,  and  the  words  of  the  Duke 
(ii.  2),  "  pay  with  falsehood  [equivocation],  false  ex- 
acting," formulate  it  with  philosophical  precision. 
To  be  true  even  by  means  of  "falsehood"  is  a 
problem  which  he  often  makes  his  characters  work 
out  practically,  and  of  which  he  makes  Pandulph 
give,  as  we  have  seen,  the  theoretical  demonstration 
("  King  John,"  iii.  i ,  and  Salisbury  in  "  2  Henry  VI.," 
V.  I ).  "  Cymbeline,"  according  to  Gervinus,"  is  a 
parable  on  the  doctrine  of  fidelity.  Pisanio,  the 
faithful  follower,  there  speaks,  "  True  to  thee 
[Cloten]  were  to  prove  false,  which  I  never  will 
be,  to  him  that  is  most  true"  (iii.  5);  and  again, 
"Wherein  I  am  false  I  am  honest:  not  true,  to 
be  true  "  (iv.  3).  All  this  is  distinctly  on  South- 
well's side.  Helena  in  "  All's  Well "  is  made  to  act 
much  as  Isabella  in  "  Measure  for  Measure,"  and 
Desdemona,  who  dies  declaring  that  she  killed  her- 
self, elicits  from  Othello  and  Emilia  the  contradic- 
tory conclusions,  "  She's  like  a  liar,  gone  to  burning 
hell,"  and  "  0,  the  more  angel  she." 


THE    PORTER    IN    "  MACBETH  "  365 

Shakespeare  seems  to  contrast  this  deception  for 
the  sake  of  guarding  fidelity  with  the  poHtical 
deception  of  the  period  which  was  used  as  a  means 
of  discovery. 

"  Pol.  Your  bait  of  falsehood  takes  this  carp  of  truth, 
And  thus  do  we  of  wisdom  and  of  reach 
With  windlasses  and  with  assays  of  bias 
By  indirections  find  directions  out." — Hamlet^  ii.  i. 

The  rack  was  one  of  these  windlasses,  or  winding, 
circumventing  ways,  where  truth  was  drawn  out  of  a 
man  by  untruth.  A  forged  confession  of  an  accom- 
plice was  propounded  to  him,  and  then  he  was 
racked  till  he  confessed  or  explained.  "  Some  men," 
says  Selden,  "before  they  come  to  their  trial  are 
cozened  to  confess  upon  examination :  upon  this 
trick  they  are  made  to  believe  somebody  has  con- 
fessed before  them,  and  then  they  think  it  a  piece 
of  honour  to  be  clear  and  ingenuous,  and  that 
destroys  them."     This  was  the  policy  of  the  Cecils. 

The  Porter's  speech  in  "  Macbeth "  has  been 
taken  as  a  protest  against  this  doctrine  of  equivoca- 
tion. The  man  supposes  himself  to  be  porter  at 
hell's  gate,  and  to  be  letting  in  the  company; 
among  them  is  an  "  equivocator,  that  could  swear  in 
both  the  scales  against  either  scale,  who  committed 
treason  enough  for  God's  sake,  yet  could  not  equi- 
vocate to  heaven "  ("  Macbeth,"  ii.  3).  But  this 
swearing  in  both  the  scales  against  either  scale 
means  the  readiness  under  one  and  the  same  set 
of   circumstances    to    swear    indifferently   whatever 


366  DIDACTTC   PLAYS 

suits  best,  however  false  the  matter  might  be,  and 
does  not  therefore  touch  the  case.  Richard  lays 
down  Father  Gamett's  doctrine  in  these  terms — 

"  An  oath  is  of  no  moment,  being  not  took 
Before  a  true  and  lawful  magistrate 
That  hath  authority  over  him  that  swears. 
Henry  had  none,  but  did  usurp  the  place. 
Then,  seeing  'twas  he  that  made  you  to  depose, 
Your  oath,  my  lord,  is  vain  and  frivolous." 

— 3  Henry  F/.,  i.  2. 

The  next,  and  perhaps  the  most  important  of 
Shakespeare's  didactic  plays,  is  "  Cymbeline."  The 
story  is  taken  from  the  fabulous  British  annals 
printed  in  Hollinshed,  but  with  variations  to  adapt 
it  to  the  times.  Thus  the  two  shipwrecks  that 
befell  Julius'  fleet  on  the  EngUsh  coast  are  an  alter- 
ation of  the  account  of  Cassibelan's  spiking  the 
Thames  and  of  Caesar's  ships  being  snagged  upon 
the  spikes,  adapted  to  the  recent  history  of  Philip's 
two  Armadas;  and  the  end,  the  submission  to  the 
emperor  after  the  victory  over  him,  is  a  mere  addi- 
tion of  Shakespeare,  unhistorical,  quite  legendary, 
unnecessary  for  the  drama,  and  simply  didactic. 

In  its  lessons  "  C3rmbeluie  "  has  several  points  of 
comparison  with  "Measure  for  Measure."  Thus, 
Belarius'  whole  theory  of  pohtical  justice,  expressed 
in  the  words  "beaten  for  loyalty  excited  me  to 
treason"  (v.  5),  is  merely  a  subtle  variation  of  the 
"Like  doth  quit  like"  of  the  former  play,  and  the 
theory  of  truth,  falsehood,  and  fidelity  is  absolutely 


THE   ROMAN    QUESTION  367 

the  same,  as  the  quotations  given  sufficiently  testify. 
But  the  object  of  the  play  goes  beyond  that  of 
"  Measure  for  Measure."  The  latter  play  only  ven- 
tured to  urge  the  suppression  of  the  penal  laws 
by  royal  prerogative  ;  "  Cymbeline  "  recommends 
a  reconciliation  with  Rome  on  certain  concessions 
affecting  the  tribute  and  the  franchise  or  liberties 
of  the  people,  which  Simpson  takes  to  refer  to  the 
vexed  question  of  Peter's  pence,  the  provisos  and 
the  temporal  suzerainty. 

To  the  obvious  objection  that  the  grievances 
enumerated  would  apply  only  to  the  early  Roman 
sway  over  Britain,  and  not  at  all  to  the  Roman 
question  such  as  it  existed  in  the  days  of  James  I., 
it  is  answered,  first,  that,  according  to  Shakespeare's 
doctrine,  plays  ought  to  take  the  stamp  of  the  age, 
and  exhibit  the  pressure  of  the  time.  Next,  that 
the  current  Roman  question  in  those  days  was  of 
such  paramount  importance  that  common  audiences 
could  admit  no  other  idea,  and  that  all  references 
to  Rome  were  considered  to  allude  more  or  less 
plainly  to  the  circumstances  of  the  day.  This  is 
clear  by  the  prologue  spoken  by  Envy  in  Ben 
Jonson*s  "  Poetaster  " : — 

"  The  scene  is  ?  ha  I 
Rome  ?  Rome  ?  and  Rome  ?  .  .  . 

...  0  my  veit  soul 
How  might  I  force  this  to  the  present  state  ? 

Are  there  here  no  spies  who could  wrest 

Pervert,  and  poison  all  they  hear  and  see 
With  senseless  glosses  and  allusions  ? " 


368  DIDACTIC  PLAYS 

Catholics  as  well  as  Protestants  saw  in  Imperial 
Rome  an  image  of  the  Papacy,  and  the  two  failures 
of  Caesar  were  a  commonplace  of  the  day.  After 
the  failure  of  the  Armada,  Father  Parsons  re- 
minded the  Catholics  that  Julius  and  Henry  VII. 
had  both  been  unlucky  in  their  first  attempts, 
though  they  afterwards  became  lords  of  the  country. 
"  The  children  of  Israel  (too)  were  twice  beaten 
with  great  loss  in  the  war  they  had  undertaken 
by  God's  express  command  against  the  Benjamites : 
it  was  not  till  the  third  attempt  that  they  were 
successful."^  And  the  attitude  of  James  at  that 
time  was  such  as  to  encourage  the  belief  that 
reconciliation  with  Rome  was  by  no  means  im- 
possible. Thus  he  told  a  prince  of  the  House  of 
Lorraine  who  visited  him,  not  without  the  know- 
ledge of  Paul  v.,  that  after  aU  there  was  but  Uttle 
difference  between  the  two  confessions.  He  thought 
his  own  the  better,  and  adopted  it  from  conviction, 
not  from  policy;  still  he  liked  to  hear  other  opinions, 
and  as  the  calling  of  a  council  was  impossible,  he 
would  gladly  see  a  convention  of  doctors  to  consult 
on  the  means  of  reconciHation.  If  the  Pope  would 
advance  one  step,  he  would  advance  four  to  meet 
him.  He  also  acknowledged  the  authority  of  the 
holy  Fathers ;  Augustine  was  to  him  of  more  weight 
than  Luther,  Bernard  than  Calvin;  nay,  he  saw  in 
the  Roman  Church,  even  in  that  of  the  day,  the 
true  Church,  the  mother  of  all  others;    only  she 

^  Philopater  ad  Edict,  rejxms.,  ss.  146,  147. 


ADHERENCE   TO   CUSTOM  369 

needed  purification.  He  admitted,  in  confidence, 
that  the  Pope  was  the  head  of  the  Church,  the 
supreme  Bishop.^ 

Whether  or  no  there  be  a  political  allegory  in 
"  Cymbeline,"  the  religious  allusions  are  again  on 
the  Catholic  side.  Imogen  is  the  ideal  of  fidelity, 
and  of  religious  fidelity — to  be  deceived  neither  by 
the  foreign  impostor  who  comes  to  her  in  her 
husband's  name,  nor  by  the  ennobled  clown  who 
offers  himself  under  the  Queen's  protection.  "  Stick 
to  your  journal  coiu:se,"  she  says  to  her  brothers; 
"the  breach  of  custom  is  the  breach  of  all" 
(iv.  2).  And  she  adheres  to  the  old  customs ;  the 
new  gods  of  the  Cloten  dynasty  had  forbidden 
prayers  for  the  dead,  and  the  beads  were  baubles, 
and  the  rosary,  with  its  "  century  of  prayers,"  but  a 
vain  repetition  in  their  eyes.  Yet  she  begs  Lucius 
to  spare  her  till  she  has  bedecked  her  husband's 
supposed  grave, 

"  And  on  it  said  a  centuiy  of  prayers 
Such  as  I  can,  twice  o'er  "  (iv.  2). 

This  tenderness  for  old  customs,  understood  or  not, 
and  for  the  religious  traditions  of  past  generations, 
is  found  also  in  the  two  lost  princes :  "  We  must 
lay  his  head  to  the  east ;  my  father  hath  a  reason 
for  it "  (iv.  2).  A  few  lines  before  Guiderius  refused 
to  sing,  because  his  voice  was  choked;  he  would 

1  Rdazione  dd  Sr.  di  Breval  aZ  Papa,  Kanke,  ii.  86,  1847. 

2  A 


370  DIDACTIC   PLAYS 

only  say  the  dirge,  it  would  be  profanation  to  sing 
it  out  of  tune — 

"  For  notes  of  sorrow  out  of  tune  are  worse 
Than  priests  and  fanes  that  lie." 

It  is  impossible  to  suppose  that  Shakespeare 
really  held  that  the  singing  of  a  Miserere  a  trifle 
too  sharp  was  worse  than  a  hypocritical  priesthood 
and  a  false  religion.  Read  ironically  the  text 
means,  "You  talk  of  the  lying  priests  and  their 
lying  temples ;  I  hold  your  vile  psalm-singing  to  be 
ten  times  worse." 

The  religious  opinions  of  Posthumus  are  char- 
acterised in  two   places.     In   one  he  discourses  of 

Penance : — 

"  My  conscience,  thou  art  fettered 
More  than  my  shanks  and  wrists  ;  you  good  gods,  give  me 
The  penitent  instrument  to  pick  that  bolt, 
Then,  free  for  ever  !     Is't  enough  I  am  sorry  ? 
So  children  temporal  fathers  do  appease  ; 
Gods  are  more  full  of  mercy.     Must  I  repent  ? 
I  cannot  do  it  better  than  in  gyves. 
Desired  more  than  constrained  :  to  satisfy. 
If  of  my  freedom  'tis  the  main  part,  take 
No  stricter  render  of  me  than  my  all. 
I  know  you  are  more  clement  than  vile  men, 
Who  of  their  broken  debtors  take  a  third, 
A  sixth,  a  tenth,  letting  them  thrive  again 
On  their  abatement ;  that's  not  my  desire  : 
For  Imogen's  dear  life  take  mine  ;  and  though 
'Tis  not  so  dear,  yet  'tis  a  life  "  (v.  4). 

Penance,  he  says,  is  in  two  degrees.  One  gains 
pardon,  the  other  makes  satisfaction  —  "cancels 
bonds "  (v.   4).     For   Shakespeare,   as    my  readers 


PREPARATION   FOR   DEATH  3/1 

may  have  seen  before,  was  a  stickler  for  the  old 
doctrine  of  merit.  In  this  very  play  he  puts  into 
his  dirge  the  line,  "  Home  art  gone  to  take  thy 
wages "  ;  and  it  is  this  kind  of  penance  which  can 
alone  give  confidence  in  death.  When  Posthumus 
declares  that  he  knows  where  he  is  going  after 
death,  the  gaoler  says  to  him :  "  You  must  either 
be  directed  by  some  that  take  upon  them  to  know, 
or  do  take  upon  yourself  that  which  I  am  sure  you 
do  not  know,  or  jump  the  after-inquiry  at  your  own 
peril."  And  Posthumus  replies  :  "  I  tell  thee,  fellow, 
there  are  none  want  eyes  to  direct  them  the  way 
I  am  going,  but  such  as  wink  and  will  not  use 
them"  (v.  4).  This  conversation  recalls  a  con- 
troversial saying  of  Sir  Thomas  More :  "  Howbeit, 
if  so  be  that  their  way  be  not  wrong,  but  they  have 
found  out  so  easy  a  way  to  heaven  as  to  take  no 
thought  but  make  merry,  nor  take  no  penance 
at  all,  but  sit  them  down  and  drink  well  for  the 
Saviour's  sake,  sit  cock-a-hoop,  and  fill  in  all  the 
cups  at  once,  and  then  let  Christ's  passion  pay  for 
all  the  shot,  I  am  not  he  that  will  envy  their  good 
hap,  but  surely  counsel  dare  I  give  to  no  man  to 
adventure  that  way  with  them."  ^ 

Another  characteristic  of  Posthumus  is  his  par- 
doning lachimo : — 

"  Kneel  not  to  me  : 

The  power  that  I  have  on  you  is  to  spare  you  ; 

The  malice  towards  you  to  forgive  you  ;  live 

And  deal  with  others  better"  (v.  5). 

^  Dialogue  of  Comfort,  Works.     11 77. 


372  DIDACTIC   PLAYS 

Did  space  admit,  the  aptness  of  the  allegory  might 
be  traced  into  much  minuter  details.  But  we  will 
only  note  that,  as  in  "  Measure  for  Measure,"  the 
character  of  the  Duke  is  somewhat  marred  by  his 
inconsistent  severity  to  Lucio;  so  here,  with  the 
same  barefaced  irony,  he  makes  Cymbeline  threaten 
his  preservers  with  death — one  for  having  slain 
Cloten,  a  prince,  though  in  self-defence;  and  the 
other  for  having  said  that  Arviragus  was  in  descent 
as  good  as  the  king :  "  And  thou  shalt  die  for 
it"  (v.  5).  Another  sweetening  sop  which  must 
have  hidden  much  of  the  bitterness  of  this  play 
from  James,  was  the  assumption  of  a  natural  and 
inherent  superiority  in  princely  blood. 

"  0  worthiness  of  nature  !  breed  of  greatness  ! 
Cowards  father  cowards,  and  base  things  sire  base  : 
Nature  hath  meal  and  bran,  contempt  and  grace  "  (iii.  2). 

"  Their  blood  thinks  scorn 
Till  it  fly  out,  and  show  them  princes  born  "  (iv.  4). 

But  Shakespeare  has  the  same  idea  in  other  places. 
Perdita  is  an  example.  It  cannot,  then,  be  called 
mere  flattery. 

We  will  not  spend  much  space  on  "  Troilus  and 
Cressida,"  a  play  which  is  recognised  by  the  preface 
of  the  first  edition  to  belong  to  the  didactic  series 
of  the  poet's  dramas.  It  contains  no  doubt  deep 
utterances  upon  questions  of  politics,  and  still  deeper 
lessons  on  philosophy.  It  seems,  however,  to  have 
been  composed  by  occasion  of  some  theatrical  strife. 


Witness  Ulysses'  description  of  Patroclus'  acting  in 
Achilles'  tent — 

"...  Like  a  strutting  player, — whose  conceit 
Lies  in  his  hamstring,  and  doth  think  it  rich 
To  hear  the  wooden  dialogue  and  sound 
'Twixt  his  stretched  footing  and  the  scafFoldage." 

A  satire  on  actors  is  seen  again  in  Troilus'  "  copper- 
nose  "  and  in  his  speech — 

"  Whilst  some  with  cunning  gild  their  copper  crowns, 
With  truth  and  plainness  I  do  wear  mine  bare." 

We  have  evidence  of  Shakespeare's  intervention 
in  one  encounter  of  dramatists.  In  the  "  Return 
from  Parnassus,"  1602  (iv.  3),  we  read,  "  Ben  Jonson 
is  a  pestilent  fellow ;  he  brought  up  Horace  giving 
the  poets  a  pill;  but  our  fellow  Shakespeare  hath 
given  him  a  purge  that  made  him  bewray  his  credit." 
This  alludes  to  Jonson's  "  Poetaster,"  acted  by  chil- 
dren, the  choir  boys  of  the  Chapel  Royal,  at  the 
Blackfriars  Theatre  in  160 1.  It  was  written  chiefly 
against  Marston  and  Dekker,  who  replied  to  it  in 
the  "  Satiromastix."  Shakespeare,  however,  con- 
sidered himself  touched  by  it.  He  was  so  well 
known  as  the  sweet,  the  honey-tongued,  the  English 
Ovid,  that,  in  spite  of  some  palpable  inconsistencies, 
the  public  must  have  considered  that  he  was 
attacked  under  that  name  in  Jonson's  play.  His 
counter-hit  is  seen  in  "  Hamlet,"  where  Rosencrantz 
relates  how  the  children  have  superseded  the  actors 
in  public  favour,  "  There  is  an  aery  of  children,  little 


374  DIDACTIC   PLAYS 

eyases,  that  cry  out  on  the  top  of  the  question,  and 
are  most  tyrannically  clapped  for't :  these  are  now 
the  fashion,  and  so  berattle  the  common  stages — 
so  they  call  them — that  many  wearing  rapiers  are 
afraid  of  goose-quills,  and  dare  scarce  come  thither." 
This  seems  an  allusion  to  Captain  Tucca  in  the 
"  Satiromastix,"  who  says  to  Jonson,  "  We  that  are 
heads  of  legions  and  bands,  and  fear  none  but 
these  same  shoulder-clappers,  shall  fear  you,  you 
serpentine  rascal  ? "  Then  Hamlet  says  that  their 
writers  (Jonson  to  wit)  do  the  children  wrong,  "  to 
make  them  exclaim  against  their  own  succession" 
— against  the  craft  that  they  are  for  the  most  part 
destined  to  follow.  Now  this  mild  criticism  can 
hardly  be  called  "  a  purge  to  make  Jonson  bewray 
his  credit " ;  Shakespeare  probably  administered  a 
severer  dose  than  this,  and  we  think  Thersites  in 
"  Troilus  and  Cressida "  may  have  been  meant  for 
Ben.  This  view  of  the  play  as  a  concealed  satire 
removes  much  of  the  difficulty  which  it  presents 
as  a  drama  in  which  the  satirical  purpose  somewhat 
mars  its  artistic  effect.^    We  will  now  consider  those 


^  This  may  account  for  the  difficulties  in  the  date  of  this  play.  It 
was  entered,  as  played  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  men,  in  the 
Stationers'  books,  February  7,  1602,  but  when  published  in  1609 
'*it  had  never  been  staled  with  the  stage,  clapperclawed  with  the 
palms  of  the  vulgar,  or  sullied  with  their  smoky  breath."  It  may 
have  been  played  once,  before  some  powerful  person  (the  editor 
of  1609  had  some  ado  to  rescue  it  from  the  "grand  possessor") 
and  then  forbidden.  This  was  exactly  the  measure  meted  to  Jon- 
son's  "Apology"  for  his  "Poetaster,"  which  was  only  once  spoken 
on  the  stage,  and  then  restrained  from  publication,  by  authority. 


RELIGIOUS    ALLUSIONS  375 

expressions  in  the  play  which  seem  to  throw  any 
light  on  the  poet's  religious  opinions. 

The  reverence  he  had  for  the  sacrificial  ceremonies 
of  reHgion  peeps  out  in  the  words  of  Patroclus, 
where  he  says  that  the  Greeks  used  to  come  to 
Achilles — 

"  As  humbly  as  they  used  to  creep 
To  holy  altars  "  (iii.  3)  ; 

and  in  those  of  Troilus,  where  he  expresses  the 
deep  feeling  with  which  he  delivers  up  Cressida  to 
Diomede's  hand,  which  he  tells  Paris  to  consider 

"  An  altar,  and  thy  brother  Troilus 
A  priest  there,  offering  to  it  his  own  heart "  (iv.  3). 

The  religious  sentiment  is  more  generalised  in 
Troilus'  words  to  Cressida — 

"  The  blessed  gods,  as  angry  with  my  fancy. 
More  bright  in  zeal  than  the  devotion  which 
Cold  lips  blow  to  their  deities,  take  thee  from  me  "  (iv.  4) ; 

and  in  Cassandra's  to  Hector — 

"  The  gods  are  deaf  to  hot  and  peevish  vows  : 
They  are  polluted  offerings,  more  abhorred 
Than  spotted  livers  in  the  sacrifice," 

though  such  utterances  are  useful  as  showing  the 
sacrificial  view  which  Shakespeare  took  of  all  re- 
ligious devotion.  True  religion  is  a  dedication  of  the 
best  part  of  man  to  God,  who  will  accept  only 
supreme  and  absolute  homage,  and  who  is  jealous 
of  any  one  to  whom  a  more  zealous  devotion  is  felt. 


Z76  DIDACTIC   PLAYS 

Hence  the  jealousy  of  a  husband  for  his  wife's  purity 
of  soul  is  called  "  a  godly  jealousy  "  (iv.  4) ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  religion  imposes  no  sacrifices  which 
hurt  other  persons'  rights.  It  does  not  sacrifice  the 
less  good  to  the  greater,  to  the  real  loss  of  the 
friend,  but  maintains  both  at  once. 

"  Do  not  count  it  holy 
To  hurt  by  being  just :  it  is  as  lawful, 
For  we  would  give  much,  to  use  violent  thefts 
And  rob  in  the  behalf  of  charity  "  (v.  3). 

And  again,  "  vows  to  every  purpose  must  not  hold  " 
(v.  3).  As  we  have  traced  the  preachy  element  in 
FalstafF,  Bottom,  and  Holofernes,  so  we  may  find 
the  same  kind  of  genius  in  Thersites.  He  reckons 
Ajax  unable  even  "  to  learn  a  prayer  without  book  " 
(ii.  i),  and  says,  "I  will  buy  nine  sparrows  for  a 
penny,  and  his  'pia  mater  is  not  worth  the  ninth 
part  of  a  sparrow  "  (ii.  i ).  He  opens  the  next  scene 
with  a  kind  of  litany,  and  then  says,  *'  I  have  said 
my  prayers,  and  devil  Envy  say  Amen."  On  the 
theory  above  suggested  this  would  be  an  allusion  to 
the  prayerful  prologue  of  Env}^  in  the  "  Poetaster," 
just  as  the  armed  prologue  of  Shakespeare's  play 
is  an  allusion  to  the  prologue  in  armour  of  Ben 
Jonson's.  Thersites  continues  in  the  same  strain, 
"  Discipline  come  not  near  thee — Amen."  And 
then  Ajax  breaks  in,  "What!  art  thou  devout?  wast 
thou  in  prayer  ?  "  He  repHes,  "  Ay,  the  Heavens 
hear  me." 


THE    SERVICE   AND   THE    GOD  377 

A  proof  of  Shakespeare's  anti-Romish  ideas  of 
ritual  is  found  in  the  passage — 

"  'Tis  mad  idolatry 
To  make  the  service  greater  than  the  God  "  (ii.  2).^ 

The  words  occur  in  a  speech  where,  in  reply  to 
Troiluss  question,  "What  is  aught,  but  as  'tis 
valued  ? "  Hector  answers — 

"  But  value  dwells  not  in  particular  will ; 
It  holds  his  estimate  and  dignity 
As  well  wherein  'tis  precious  of  itself 
As  in  the  prizer  :  'tis  mad  idolatry 
To  make  the  service  greater  than  the  God, 
And  the  will  dotes  that  is  inclinable 
To  what  infectiously  itself  affects 
Without  some  image  of  the  affected  merit." 

In  other  words,  the  value  of  any  object  depends  not 
only  on  any  individual's  estimation  of  it,  but  on 
its  own  intrinsic  worth.  It  is  idolatry  to  value  the 
service  more  highly  than  the  God.  And  it  is  mad- 
ness to  love  a  thing  for  what  our  fancy  attributes  to 
it  when  it  really  has  no  such  quality.  To  use  the 
language  of  the  modern  schools,  Shakespeare  is  dis- 
tinguishing the  subjective  and  the  objective  elements 
in  value.  And  he  says  that  it  is  folly  to  estimate  a 
thing  merely  by  our  subjective  feeling  about  it. 
Hence,  in  the  illustration,  "service"  means  not 
"  ritual "  but  subjective  feeling  about  God,  as  con- 
trasted with  the  objective  truth  about  Him.  And 
the  lesson  taught  is  that  it  is  mad  idolatry  to  set  a 

^  Edinburgh  Review^  vol.  cxxiii.  182. 


378  DIDACTIC  PLAYS 

higher  value  on  our  own  devotional  act  or  experiences 
than  on  God  Himself,  His  truth,  and  His  will,  which 
are  alone  the  end  of  all  religion.  The  passage,  in 
fact,  condemns  emotional  religion,  or  the  assurance 
of  salvation  through  feeling,  the  doctrine  not  of 
Kome  but  of  Calvin  and  Luther.^ 

The  Reviewer  asserts  that  the  words  "  You  are  in 
a  state  of  grace  "  ("  Troilus,"  iii.  i ),  are  taken  from 
the  Church  of  England  Catechism,  and  present  in 
consequence  another  proof  of  Shakespeare's  Protes- 
tantism. The  "  Catechism,"  however,  referred  to 
existed  only  in  part  in  1601,  when  this  play  was 
published.  Neither  in  the  part  then  existing,  nor 
in  that  added  in  1603,  is  ^^^  phrase  "state  of 
grace"  to  be  found.  But  though  not  found  in 
the  Anglican  catechism,  it  is  to  be  found  in  the 
Decrees  of  the  Council  of  Trent  (sess.  vi.  cap.  iv.), 
and  in  the  catechetical  instruction  founded  there- 
upon, and  thus  the  phrase  has  become  proverbial 
and  common  among  Catholics.  Moreover,  "  state 
of  grace"  is  a  distinctively  Catholic  expression. 
The  Protestants  of  the  Reformation  period,  who 
denied  grace  to  be  a  quality  inherent  in  the  Chris- 
tian, and  declared  it  to  be  only  the  external  election 
of  God  concerning  him,  could  not  properly  use  such 
a  phrase.  Hence  it  was  that  the  translators  of 
the  Anglican  version  altered  the  words  of  the  angelic 
salutation  in  St.  Luke,  "  Hail,  full  of  grace,"  into 
"  Hail,  thou  that  art  highly  favoured."     And  it  is 

^  Edinburgh  Review,  vol.  cxxiii.  182. 


GRACE    AND   PERSEVERANCE  379 

because  Shakespeare  did  not  look  upon  grace  as 
mere  outward  favour,  but  as  an  inward  quality, 
that  he  uses  the  phrase  "  state  of  grace,"  and  calls 
Edward  the  Confessor  and  Henry  II.  "  full  of  grace  " 
("  Macbeth,"  iv.  3  ;  "  Henry  V.,"  i.  i). 

What  Shakespeare's  doctrine  on  grace  really  was 
may  be  easily  learned  from  a  passage  which  occurs 
in  the  verses  spoken  by  the  Duke  at  the  end  of 
Act  iii.  of  "  Measure  for  Measure." 

"  He  who  the  sword  of  Heaven  will  bear 
Should  be  as  holy  as  severe, 
Pattern  in  himself  to  know, 
Grace  to  stand,  and  virtue  go." 

The  last  line  is  noted  by  the  Cambridge  editors 
as  corrupt.  It  is  not  so.  The  meaning  is  clear. 
The  man  should  have  the  pattern  or  idea  of  holi- 
ness in  himself  to  enable  him  to  stand ;  and  virtue 
to  enable  him  to  advance.  In  the  speech  of 
Ulysses  to  Achilles  in  "  Troilus  and  Cressida,"  we 
have  the  palm  of  virtues  given  to  perseverance,  or 

constancy. 

"  Perseverance,  dear  my  lord, 
Keeps  honour  bright — to  have  done  is  to  hang 
Quite  out  of  fashion,  like  a  rusty  nail 
In  monumental  mockery." 

And  this  perseverance,  constancy,  or  force  to  stand, 
he  attributes  to  grace.  The  intellect  may  know 
what  is  good,  the  natural  forces  may  be  adequate 
to  sallies  of  virtue,  isolated  acts  of  heroism,  im- 
pulsive acts  of  good,  but  standing  consistency  or 


38o  DIDACTIC   PLAYS 

perseverance  requires  constant  grace.  This  is  the 
doctrine  of  the  Council  of  Trent  (sess.  vi.  cap.  xiii.) 
and  of  S.  Alphonsus  ("  On  Prayer,"  cap.  iii.  sec.  3). 
It  is  the  Catholic,  as  distinct  from  the  Protestant 
doctrine  of  grace. 

The  Reviewer  next  produces  a  phrase  from  the 
litany  ("Taming  of  the  Shrew,"  i.  i):  "From  all 
such  devils,  good  Lord  dehver  us" — an  exclama- 
tion often  used  by  Catholics  who  have  never  heard 
the  Anglican  litany  in  .their  lives.  That  the  Htany 
form  of  prayer  was  in  common  use  in  Shakespeare's 
days  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  Ben  Jonson  ends 
one  of  his  plays  ("  Cynthia's  Revels,"  1 600)  with  a 
formal  litany  in  which  the  response  runs,  "  Good 
Mercury,  deliver  us." 

The  Reviewer  finds  the  origin  of  the  lines — 

"  His  plausive  words 
He  scattered  not  in  ears,  but  grafted  them, 
To  grow  there  and  to  bear." 

—AWs  Well  that  Ends  Well,  i.  2, 

in  a  collect  of  the  English  Church.  The  collect 
which  the  Reviewer  has  in  his  mind  is  evidently 
that  which  runs,  "  that  the  words  which  we  have 
heard  with  our  outward  ears  may  through  thy  grace 
be  so  grafted  inwardly  in  our  hearts,  that,"  &c. 
The  ideas  in  the  two  texts  are  quite  distinct,  and 
there  is  no  proof  that  one  is  copied  from  the  other. 
The  expression  verhum  insitum — "  engrafted  word  " 
— is  scriptural  (James  i.    21),  and  is  read  in  the 


THE    MARRIAGE  SERVICE  38 1 

epistle  for  Mass,  fourth  Sunday  after  Easter,  and 
would  have  been  known  without  the  prayer-book, 
while  the  collect  itself  was  probably  taken  from 
other  sources. 

Finally,  the  Reviewer  quotes  a  phrase  which  he 
says  is  taken  from  the  Anglican  marriage  service : 
"  If  either  of  you  know  of  any  inward  impediment 
why  you  should  not  be  conjoined,  I  charge  you  on 
your  souls  to  declare  it  ("  Much  Ado  about  Nothing," 
iv.  i).  But  it  is  evident  to  any  impartial  student 
that  the  phrase,  which  is  spoken,  by  the  way,  by 
Friar  Francis,  might  just  as  easily  have  been  taken 
from  the  York  Manual,  which  runs,  "  I  charge  you 
on  Goddes  behalfe  and  holy  Chirche,  that  if  there 
be  any  of  you  that  can  say  anythynge  why  these 
two  may  not  be  lawfully  wedded  togyder  at  this 
tyme,  say  it  nowe,  outher  pryuely  or  appertly,  in 
helpynge  of  your  soules  and  theirs  bothe;"  or 
again,  from  the  Sarum  Pontificaly  "Admoneo  vos 
omnes,  ut  si  quis  ex  vobis  est  qui  aliquid  sciat,  quare 
isti  adolescentes  legitime  contrahere  non  possLnt; 
modo  confiteatur."  ^ 

The  arguments  of  the  Edinburgh  Reviewer  offer, 
we  may  take  for  granted,  the  strongest  evidence  the 
writer  could  discover  for  Shakespeare's  Protestantism ; 
yet  on  examination  most  of  them  are  seen  to  be 
proofs  of  his  Catholicism,  while  the  rest  are  merely 
negative,  and  offer  no  sure  ground  for  any  conclusion 
respecting  the  sources  of  the  poet's  knowledge. 

^  Maskell,  Monumenta  Ritual.  Eccles.  Anglic.y  i.  52.     1882. 


382  DIDACTIC   PLAYS 

In  the  first  scene  of  Act  iii.  there  is  a  short 
conversation  which  has  been  quoted  as  a  proof  of 
Shakespeare's  familiarity  with  the  formulas  of  the 
Anglican  Church.  The  conversation  in  question 
seems  a  dangerous  foundation  for  an  argument  to 
prove  his  Protestantism;  such  as  it  is,  however, 
the  advocates  of  that  side  are  welcome  to  it. 

"  Servant.  I  do  depend  upon  the  Lord  (Paris). 
Pandarus.  A  noble  gentleman — I  must  needs  praise  him. 
Servant.  The  Lord  be  praised. 
Pandarus.  I  am  the  Lord  Pandarus. 
Servant.  You  are  in  a  state  of  grace. 
Pandarus.  Grace  ?  not  so  ;  honour  and  lordship  are  my  titles." 

Luxury  is  used  in  the  Catholic  sense  of  impurity 
(v.  2);  and  to  complete  the  catalogue  of  religious 
allusions  in  the  play,  pity  is  called  a  "hermit" 
(v.  3),  as  if  it  was  a  specially  monastic  virtue,  and 
Hector  quotes  the  Psalms  of  David — 

"  Pleasure  and  revenge 
Have  ears  more  deaf  than  adders  to  the  voice 
Of  any  true  decision "  (ii.  2). 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Shakespeare's    ethics. 

In  our  opening  chapter  we  endeavoured  to  trace  the 
contrast  between  Shakespeare's  philosophy  and  that 
of  the  Reform.  We  shall  conclude  by  showing  some 
of  the  salient  points  of  difference  between  his  teach- 
ing and  that  of  some  of  the  modern  theorists  whose 
doctrine  is  the  logical  offspring  of  Protestantism, 
on  the  subject  of  morals.  The  Reformers  claimed  to 
have  emancipated  human  reason  from  all  external 
authority  through  their  asserted  supremacy  of  the 
right  of  private  judgment.  Yet  from  their  teaching 
of  the  utter  corruption  of  man  through  the  fall,  and 
the  hopeless  wreck  of  his  moral  powers,  it  followed 
that  he  was  merely  a  passive  instrument  for  good 
or  evil,  as  either  principle  predominated.  Thus  the 
freedom  conferred  on  him  without  was  taken  from 
him  within.  A  similar  theory  is  advanced  by 
modern  rationalists.  Professor  Caird  tells  us  that 
"  as  moderns  we  are  all  fighting  under  the  banner 
of  a  free  spirit.  That  is,  we  are  all  engaged, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  in  the  effort  to  free 
man's  life  from  the  yoke  of  extraneous  authority, 

and  we  are  learning  that  we  can  do  this  only  as  we 

383 


384  shakespeaee's  ethics 

discover  in  that  life  a  principle  in  virtue  of  which  it 
can  be  a  law  to  itself,"  and  for  this  view  he  claims 
the  support  of  Shakespeare.  It  is,  according  to  this 
critic,  the  moving  principle  in  his  dramatis  personce} 
"which  inevitably  in  the  long  rim  comes  to  the 
surface,  when  the  passion  and  character  of  the  indi- 
vidual act  on  each  other  " ;  ^  just  as  in  the  Darwinian 
theory,  genera  and  species  are  necessarily  developed 
through  progressive  steps  by  the  combination  at 
certain  junctures  and  under  certain  conditions  of 
environment  and  heredity. 

The  poet's  genius,  then,  according  to  this  esti- 
mate, is  seen  not  simply  in  his  marvellous  power 
of  sympathy  with  characters  of  the  most  diverse 
kinds,  but  also  in  his  intuitive  grasp  of  how  each 
character  must  from  certain  beginnings  arrive  at 
its  final  issue.  Thus  his  tragedies  present,  not  the 
operation  of  a  free  will  or  a  decision  of  human 
choice,  but  the  pure  evolution  of  a  catastrophe. 
As  we  gaze  with  bated  breath  at  a  tempest-driven 
ship  grounding  helplessly  from  rock  to  rock  till  it 
finally  strikes  and  sinks,  so  is  it  with  the  action 
of  Shakespeare's  greatest  tragedies.  Macbeth  im- 
pelled by  his  first  crime,  Lear  by  his  wilfulness, 
Hamlet  fettered  by  his  irresolution,  each  hopelessly 
and  helplessly  makes  for  his  doom,  "till  the  final 
blow  of  fate  is  felt  as  a  kind  of  relief,  and  as  the 
necessary  solution  of  a  contradiction  which  has 
become  too  great  to  subsist." 

*  Contemporary  Review ^  Ixx.  826.  *  Ibid.,  826. 


HUMAN   RESPONSIBILITY  385 

Now,  is  this  really  Shakespeare's  teaching,  or 
merely  that  of  Shakespeare's  modern  critic  ?  We 
think  it  is  certainly  not  his,  and  that  he  calls  this 
evolutionary,  or  necessitarian,  or  fatalist  doctrine, 
"  excellent  foppery  "  ("  Lear,"  i.  2).  Thus,  in  reply  to 
Gloster's  complaint  that  our  misfortunes  are  but  the 
sorry  effect  of  natural  causes — 

"This,"  says  Edmund,  "is  the  excellent  foppery  of  the 
world,  that  when  we  are  sick  in  fortune,  often  the  surfeit 
of  our  own  behaviour,  we  make  guilty  of  our  disasters  the 
sun,  moon,  and  stars,  as  if  we  were  villains  by  necessity ; 
fools  by  heavenly  compulsion;  knaves,  thieves,  and,  by 
spherical  predominance,  drunkards,  liars,  and  adulterers,  by 
an  enforced  obedience  of  planetary  influence,  and  all  that 
we  are  evil  in,  by  a  divine  thrusting  on — an  admirable 
evasion." — Zear,  i.  2. 

Thus  does  the  poet  dismiss  summarily  the  sophists 
of  the  day,  and  he  lays  down  as  explicitly  by  the 
mouth  of  lago,  another  knave — for  with  him  knaves 
at  times  speak  the  truth — the  doctrine  that  free-will 
and  reason,  and  not  passion  or  nameless  impulse  of 
any  kind,  form  each  man's  character.  To  Rodrigo's 
complaint  that  virtue  could  not  cure  him  of  his 
love,  lago  replies — 

"  Virtue  !  a  fig  !  'tis  in  ourselves  that  we  are  thus  or  thus. 
Our  bodies  are  gardens,  to  the  which  our  wills  are  gardeners ; 
so  that  if  we  will  plant  nettles,  or  sow  lettuce ;  set  hyssop 
and  weed  up  thyme ;  supply  it  with  one  gender  of  herbs,  or 
distract  it  with  many ;  either  to  have  it  sterile  with  idleness, 

2  B 


386  Shakespeare's  ethics 

or  manured  with  industry;  why  the  power  and  corrigible 
authority  of  this  lies  in  our  wills.  If  the  balance  of  our 
lives  had  not  one  scale  of  reason  to  poise  another  of  sen- 
suality, the  blood  and  baseness  of  our  nature  would  conduct 
us  to  most  preposterous  conclusions  ;  but  we  have  reason  to 
cool  our  raging  motions,  our  carnal  stings,  our  unbitted  lusts, 
whereof  I  take  this  that  you  call — love  to  be  a  sect  or  scion." 
— Othello^  i.  3. 

And  indeed  if  each  character  were  necessarily  deter- 
mined by  the  moving  principle  within,  or  by  circum- 
stances, or  by  both,  the  whole  interest,  power,  and 
pathos  of  Shakespeare's  plays  would  be  gone.  If 
lago  were  a  villain,  Henry  V.  a  hero,  Isabel  pure, 
and  Cressida  stained,  solely  by  necessity,  how  could 
any  measure  of  praise  or  blame  be  attributed  to 
them  ?  They  would  be  no  more  responsible  for 
their  moral  conduct  than  for  the  height  of  their 
stature  or  the  colour  of  their  hair.  Virtue  and  vice 
would  be  meaningless.  But  Shakespeare's  aim  was 
to  show  "virtue  her  own  feature,  scorn  her  own 
image,"  and  virtue  and  vice  with  him  have  a  real 
meaning.  Their  very  notion  consists  in  the  fact 
that  the  agent  in  each  case  might  have  done  the 
opposite.  Isabella's  purity  is  admirable  because  she 
voluntarily  preferred  her  own  honour  to  her  brother's 
life.  Cressida  lashes  Troilus  to  desperation  because 
she  was  voluntarily  forsworn.  She  "is  and  is  not 
Cressida." 

Previous  habits,  as  they  are  good  or  evil,  do  indeed 
dispose  the  individual  to  either  course  of  action; 


CHARACTER   RESULT    OF    ACT  387 

the  passions  may  warp  the  judgment,  but  the 
will  has  always  the  power  in  Shakespeare's  philo- 
sophy of  doing  or  not  doing  the  act  in  question. 
No  habit,  however  strong,  robs  his  characters  of 
this  power ;  if  it  did,  their  acts  would  cease  to  be 
human.  But  Shakespeare's  characters  are  essentially 
human,  and  the  secret  of  their  power  is  that 
his  description  of  human  life  and  character  corre- 
sponds to  our  own  experience,  and  our  experience 
is  that  every  human  being  is  free.  No  man  was 
more  hopelessly  enchained  by  his  passions  than 
Antony ;  yet  he  knew  he  could  have  freed  him- 
self if  he  chose,  and  that  his  safety  lay  in  his 
doing  so. 

"  These  strong  Egyptian  fetters  I  must  break, 
Or  lose  myself  in  dofage." 

— Antony  and  Cleopatra^  i.  2. 

He  did  not  break  them,  but  voluntarily  wore  them 
until  the  end,  and  so  lived  and  died  "  a  strumpet's 
fool"  ("Antony  and  Cleopatra,"  i.  i).  Henry  V. 
wasted  long  years  in  dissipation,  and  his  com- 
panions believed  his  wild  habits  irretrievably  fixed, 
but  he  corresponded  to  his  better  impulses,  and 
"  though  the  courses  of  his  youth  promised  it  not," 
("Henry  V.,"  i.  i)— 

"  Never  came  reformation  in  a  flood, 
With  such  a  heady  current,  scouring  faults  ; 
Nor  never  Hydra-headed  wilfulness 
So  soon  did  lose  his  seat,  and  all  at  once 
As  in  this  king." — Ibid. 


388  Shakespeare's  ethics 

The  doctrine  of  moral  responsibility  is  again 
enforced  by  Shakespeare's  teaching  on  conscience. 
Its  voice,  with  him,  convicts  the  sinner  of  his 
personal  guilt.     Thus  Richard  III.  exclaims — 

"  My  conscience  hath  a  thousand  several  tongues, 
And  every  tongue  brings  in  a  several  tale, 
And  every  tale  condemns  me  for  a  villain." 

— Richard  III,^  v.  3. 

Thus,  too,  the  murderer  of  the  Duke  of 
Clarence — 

"  I'll  not  meddle  with  it ;  it  is  a  dangerous  thing,  it  makes  a 
man  a  coward  ;  a  man  cannot  steal  but  it  accuseth  him  ;  a  man 
cannot  swear,  but  it  checks  him  ;  a  man  cannot  lie  with  his 
neighbour's  wife,  but  it  detects  him." — Richard  III.j  i.  4. 

So,  too,  in  the  "  Tempest " — 

"  Oonzalo.  All  three  of  them  are  desperate  ;  their  great  guilt 
Like  poison  given  to  work  a  great  time  after. 
Now  'gins  to  bite  the  spirits." — Tempest,  iii.  3. 

The  examples  quoted  by  Professor  Caird  furnish 
to  our  mind  precisely  contrary  conclusions  to 
those  which  he  has  drawn.  In  Hollinshed,  Mac- 
beth was  from  the  first  a  hypocritical,  ambitious 
villain.  In  Shakespeare,  both  Macbeth  and  his  wife 
have  good  in  them,  and  each  step  in  their  descent 
in  crime  is  marked  by  the  voluntary  redstance 
to  the  pleading  and  stings  of  conscience,  and  by 
the  bitter  remorse  consequent  on  each  sinful  act. 


''MACBETH"  389 

When  the  temptation  to  murder  Duncan  first 
suggests  itself  after  the  witches'  prophecy,  his  whole 
being  recoils  at  the  suggestion — 

"  "Whose  horrid  image  doth  unfix  my  hair, 
And  make  my  seated  heart  knock  at  my  ribs, 
Against  the  use  of  nature." — Macbeth^  i.  3. 

He  is,  indeed,  "  too  full  of  the  milk  of  human 
kindness  to  catch  the  nearest  way "  ("  Macbeth," 
i.  5),  as  his  wife  says.  And  though  she,  like  a 
whispering  fiend  at  his  side,  has  overcome  his 
repugnance  to  the  crime,  again  his  fears  break 
out.  They  are,  it  is  true,  selfish  human  fears  of 
the  retributive  punishment  of  his  sin  here.  "  For 
the  life  to  come  "  "  he  is  prepared  to  jump,"  but  they 
equally  prove  the  freedom  and  deliberation  of  his 
acts.  After  Duncan's  murder,  Macbeth  manifests 
not  only  natural  remorse  of  conscience,  but  a 
Christian  sense  of  the  guilt  of  mortal  sin.  He  says 
of  the  grooms — 

"  One  cried,  '  God  bless  us  ! '  and  '  Amen  ! '  the  other, 
As  they  had  seen  me  with  these  hangman's  hands. 
Listening  their  fear,  I  could  not  say  '  Amen ' 
When  they  did  say  '  God  bless  us.' 

Lady  Macbeth.  Consider  it  not  so  deeply. 

Macbeth.  But  wherefore  could  I  not  pronounce  '  Amen '  ? 
I  had  most  need  of  blessing  and  *  Amen ' 
Stuck  in  my  throat. 

Lady  Macbeth.  These  deeds  must  not  be  thought 
After  these  ways  :  so  it  will  make  us  mad." — Macbeth^  ii.  2. 


390  SHAKESPEARE  S   ETHICS 

So,  too,  in  Dante's  "  Inferno "  the  maddening 
thought  of  hell  is  the  incapacity  to  utter  a  prayer 
because  the  reprobate  have  forfeited  the  grace 
needed  to  pray. 

Again,  after  the  murder  of  the  grooms,  and  before 
that  of  Banquo,  the  same  conviction  that  he  had 
voluntarily  lost  his  soul  is  thus  expressed : — 

(Have  I)  "  Mine  eternal  jewel 
Given  to  the  common  enemy  of  mankind"  (iii.  i). 

And  this  sense  of  guilt  works  here  upon  the  guilty 
pair  apart  from  any  apprehension  of  earthly  retri- 
bution. The  murder  was  a  success.  Duncan's  sons 
were  fugitive,  and  Macbeth  was  acclaimed  king. 
All  seemed  fair  without,  yet  within  the  crimi- 
nal souls  reigned  blank  despair.^  Lady  Macbeth 
soliloquises — 

"  Nought's  had,  all's  spent, 
Where  our  desire  is  got  without  content ; 
'Tis  safer  to  be  that  which  we  destroy 
Than  by  destruction  dwell  in  doubtful  joy  "  (iii.  2). 

And  though  she  upbraids'  her  husband  for  his 
melancholy,  and  tells  him  that  "  Things  without 
remedy  should  be  without  regard;  what's  done, 
is  done"  (iii.  2),  his  agonised  reply  expresses  the 
state  of  her  own  mind. 

^  Cf.  Bucknill's  "Psychology  of  Shakespeare,"  p.  17.     1859. 


REMORSE  391 

"  Better  be  with  the  dead, 
"Whom  we,  to  gain  our  place,  have  sent  to  peace, 
Than  on  the  torture  of  the  mind  to  lie 
In  restless  ecstasy"  (iii.  2). 

Crime  indeed  leads  to  crime,  but  never  necessarily. 
Throughout  the  downward  course  Macbeth  recog- 
nises his  increasing  guilt.  Banquo's  ghost  is  but 
the  reflex  of  his  own^nner  agony,  and  after  the 
slaughter  of  Lady  Macbeth  and  her  children,  when 
in  his  disordered  frenzy  he  is  reputed  mad,  its  cause 
is  explained  by  his  conscience — 

"  Who  then  shall  blame 
His  pestered  senses  to  recoil  and  start. 
When  all  that  is  within  him  does  condemn 
Itself  for  being  there  ? "  (v.  2). 

And  as  his  reign  began  by  attending  to  the  sugges- 
tion of  the  Evil  Spirit,  so  it  is  consummated  with 
the  discovery  that  all  his  crimes  have  been  but  in 
vain,  and  that  he  has  been  duped  throughout. 


■  And  be  these  juggling  fiends  no  more  believed 
That  palter  with  us  in  a  double  sense  ; 
That  keep  the  word  of  promise  to  our  ear, 
And  break  it  to  our  hope  "  (v.  7). 


With  this  portraiture  of  the  soul's  voluntary  descent 
from  crime  to  crime,  its  voluntary  search  for 
criminal  opportunities,  and  all  the  bitter  remorse 
proper  only  to  the  consciously  responsible  being,  it 
is  hard  to  see  how  Shakespeare  can  be  regarded  as 


392  SHAKESPEARE  S   ETHICS 

denying  freedom  of  will.      He  has,  however,  been 
vindicated  in  an  unexpected  quarter. 

Modern  necessitarianism  is  the  modern  offspring 
of  Calvinism ;  and  Milton,  the  Puritan  poet,  shows 
us  how  far  Shakespeare  was  from  holding  the  views 
now  attributed  to  him.  With  every  poet  his  work 
is  a  reflection  of  himself,  and  Milton,  regarding  him- 
self as  one  of  the  elect,  had,  we  are  told,  "  a  kingly 
intolerance  for  his  fellows,"  and  moved  amongst 
other  men  with  a  sense  of  conscious  superiority. 
The  sinner  with  him  must  be  essentially  corrupt, 
the  elect  as  essentially  good.  He  would  recognise, 
therefore,  nothing  of  the  strife  between  good  and 
evil,  of  St.  Paul's  cry,  "  The  good  I  would,  I  do 
not ;  the  evil  I  would  not,  that  I  do,"  the  very  theme 
set  forth  with  such  pathos  and  power  by  Shake- 
speare in  his  sonnets,  and  throughout  his  plays. 
Milton  therefore  was  dissatisfied  with  Shakespeare's 
"  Macbeth,"  because  in  the  king,  notwithstanding  his 
crimes,  the  conflict  between  good  and  evil  was  ap- 
parent to  the  last,  and  Milton  thought  of  rewriting 
the  play,  as  Professor  Hales  tells  us,  on  Puritan 
lines.-^  He  however  contented  himself  with  repro- 
ducing it  in  "  Paradise  Lost,"  where  the  same  story 
is  told.  Man  there  yields  to  evil  through  a  woman's 
agency,  and  loses  all ;  for  the  first  fall  is,  in  its  main 
feature,  the  type  of  man's  most  frequent  transgres- 
sions. Now  in  Milton's  epics  is  seen  as  nowhere  in 
Shakespeare  the  necessary  evolution  of  the  sinner  to 

^  Nineteenth  Century,  vol.  xxx.  December  1891. 


TENDERNESS   OF   SHAKESPEARE  393 

his  end,  developed  step  by  step  througli  the  inevit- 
able force  of  the  evil  principle  within  him.  Satan 
from  the  first  could  never  have  been  aught  but  the 
leader  of  the  rebel  host.  There  was  no  weakness, 
no  hesitation  before  his  sin,  nor  consequent  remorse. 
Even  in  his  defeat  he  triumphs  in  his  boasted  inde- 
pendence. "Better  to  reign  in  hell,  than  serve  in 
heaven."  Adam,  on  the  other  hand,  is  all  weakness. 
He  loses  all  without  a  moment's  misgiving,  never 
thinks  of  resistance.  He  has  not  the  will  to  say 
"  Nay ! "  ;  and  the  feeling  evoked  by  his  fall  is  not 
one  of  pity,  but  of  sheer  contempt. 

Shakespeare's  view  of  human  nature  is  the  oppo- 
site of  this.  He  has  the  keenest  sympathy  with  his 
fellow-creatures,  above  all  with  the  sinner,  though 
coupled  with  abhorrence  for  his  sin,  and  this  is  so 
because  he  knew  what  he  was  himself.  St.  Philip 
Neri  would  exclaim  when  he  heard  of  a  terrible 
scandal,  "  God  grant  I  may  not  do  worse."  So  it 
was  with  the  poet.  Only  a  few  of  Shakespeare's 
characters,  lago,  Aaron,  Goneril,  and  Regan,  are 
irretrievably,  formally  bad.  Even  John  and  Richard 
in.  have  a  conscience.  The  rest,  Macbeth  and  his 
wife,  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  display  those  traces  of 
goodness  which  show  what  they  might  have  been 
had  God's  image  not  been  wrecked,  and  they  so  far 
command  a  lingering  regard.  Shakespeare's  genius, 
indeed,  is  seen  in  manifesting  how  the  baser  im- 
pulses within  the  soul  may,  and  under  certain 
circumstances  do,  effect  his  ruin.     But  these  circum- 


394  SHAKESPEARE  S   ETHICS 

stances  with  him  are  the  occasion,  not  the  cause,  as 
agnostics  assert,  of  the  fall  that  follows.  Speaking 
of  Eve's  excuse  after  the  fall.  Cardinal  (then  Mr.) 
Newman  says :  "  And  this  has  been  the  course 
of  lawless  pride  and  lust  ever  since ;  to  lead 
us,  first,  to  exult  in  our  uncontrollable  liberty 
of  will  and  conduct,  and  then,  when  we  have 
ruined  ourselves,  to  plead  that  we  are  slaves  of 
necessity."  ^ 

Professor  Caird,  again,  tells  us  that  with  Shake- 
speare man  is  not  to  save  himself  from  shipwreck 
"  by  timely  good  resolutions  and  persistent  faithful- 
ness in  them,  but  by  passing  through  the  depths 
of  self-despair  and  self -disgust."^  To  our  mind, 
Shakespeare  insists  explicitly  on  the  very  course  of 
action  the  Professor  cannot  find  in  his  teaching. 
For  instance,  Hamlet  does  not  tell  his  mother  to 
continue  living  with  the  incestuous  king  till  she 
is  weary  of  him.  On  the  contrary,  he  urges  her 
at  once  to  break  with  the  occasion  and  she  will 
be  saved  from  the  sin,  for  by  repeated  abstinence 
a  good  habit  will  succeed  to  the  evil  custom — 

"  Refrain  to-night ; 
And  that  shall  lend  a  kind  of  easiness 
To  the  next  abstinence  ;  the  next  more  easy  ; 
For  use  almost  can  change  the  stamp  of  nature 
And  master  the  devil,  or  throw  him  out 
With  wondrous  potency." — Hamletf  iii.  4. 


1  "University  Sermons,"  Human  ResponsihilUy,  viii.  136.     1872. 
^  Ibid.,  825. 


AVOIDANCE   OF   OCCASION  395 

Similarly  Laertes  does  not  tell  Ophelia  that  her 
wish  for  Hamlet's  company  is  irresistible,  but  on 
the  contrary,  that  she  is  to  keep  away  from  "his 
unmastered  importunity  "  ("  Hamlet,"  i.  3). 

"  Fear  it,  Ophelia,  fear  it,  my  dear  sister  ; 
And  keep  you  in  the  rear  of  your  affection, 
Out  of  the  shot  of  danger  and  desire." — Ibid. 

Again,  we  are  told  how  presumption  prepares  for 
a  fall— 

"  But  something  may  be  done  that  we  will  not ; 
And  sometimes  we  are  devils  to  ourselves, 
When  we  will  tempt  the  frailty  of  our  powers, 
Presuming  on  their  changeful  potency." 

— Troilus  and  Gressida,  iv.  4. 

Again,  with  theological  accuracy  Hamlet  describes 
the  absolute  dethronement  of  reason,  judgment, 
sense,  which  consent  to  a  guilty  passion  incurs. 

"  What  devil  was't 
That  thus  hath  cozened  you  at  hoodman-blind  ? 
Eyes  without  feeling,  feeling  without  sight, 
Ears  without  hands  or  eyes,  smelling  sans  all. 
Or  but  a  sickly  part  of  one  true  sense 
Could  not  so  mope. 
O  shame     where  is  thy  blush  1 "  (iii.  4). 

This  expostulation  would  be  meaningless  were  not 
the  shame  and  blush  supposed  to  be  the  result 
of  a  guilty  conscience. 

Gervinus   quotes    with    approval    Birch's    saying 


396  shakespeake's  ethics 

that  Shakespeare  "builds  a  system  of  morality 
upon  nature  and  reason,  a  system  independent 
of  religious  considerations,  because  he  believed  the 
laws  of  morality  to  be  written  plainly  enough 
in  the  human  heart."  ^  But  Shakespeare  knew  of 
no  divorce  between  religion  and  morality.  With 
him,  on  the  contrary,  the  voice  of  conscience  was 
the  voice  of  God,  and  an  act  against  conscience 
a  sin  against  God,  as  has  been  abundantly  demon- 
strated in  the  case  of  Macbeth.  Thus,  too,  the 
Duke  in  "  Measure  for  Measure "  instructs  Juliet 
(as  we  have  seen)  on  the  difference  between  the 
sorrow  to  death  after  a  fall,  or  mere  self-disgust, 
and  true  contrition  which  has  for  its  motive  sorrow 
for  having  oifended  God.  So  too  Posthumus,  in 
the  passage  already  quoted,  speaks  of  his  conscience 
"  being  fettered  by  the  gods "  ("  Cymbeline,"  v.  4), 
and  of  the  satisfaction  which  he  must  make  to  them, 
before  he  can  be  fully  acquitted.  This  speech  of 
his  Bishop  Wordsworth  declares  to  be  given  as 
uttered  by  a  heathen — purposely  unchristian.  It 
is  in  any  case  undoubtedly  the  Catholic  doctrine 
of  repentance. 

So  again  suicide  is  forbidden,  not  because  it 
is  an  offence  against  society,  or  any  merely 
human  precept,  but  as  a  transgression  of  the 
divine  law. 

"  0  !  that  the  everlasting  had  not  fixed 
His  canon  'gainst  self-slaughter." — Hamlet^  i.  2, 

^  Bunnett's  trans.,  ii.  589.     1863. 


ETERNAL   PUNISHMENT  397 

And  in  "  Cymbeline  " — 

*'  Against  self -slaughter 
There  is  a  prohibition  so  divine 
That  cravens  my  weak  hand." — Cymheliney  iii.  4. 

And  Gloster  in  "  Lear  " — 

"  You  ever  gentle  gods,  take  my  breath  from  me, 
Let  not  my  worser  spirit  tempt  me  again 
To  die  before  you  please." — Lear,  iv.  6. 

Shakespeare's  sense  of  the  intrinsic  malice  of 
sin  is  seen  again  in  his  explicit  recognition  of  the 
penalties  inflicted  by  God.  He  shows  no  trace 
of  the  modern  sentimentalists'  abhorrence  of  the 
doctrine  of  eternal  punishment.  On  the  contrary, 
he  states  as  explicitly  as  Dante  himself  the  un- 
ending loss  and  pain  consequent  on  one  grave  lapse. 
Thus  Isabella  protests  that  a  brother  had  better 
die  (a  temporal  death)  once  than  a  sister  eternally. 
So  too  Mrs.  Ford  comments  on  Falstaff  s  letter : 
"  If  I  would  but  go  to  hell  for  an  eternal  moment 
or  so,  I  could  be  knighted "  ("  Merry  Wives," 
ii.  2).  Claudio,  again,  speaks  of  the  seven  deadly 
(sins),  and  pleads  that  Angelo's  would  be  the 
least : — 

"Why  should  he  for  the  momentary  trick 
Be  perdurably  fined  1 " 

And  Isabella  replies — 

"  Is't  not  a  kind  of  incest  to  take  life 
From  thine  own  sister's  shame  ? " 

for  Measure,  iii.  i. 


39^  shakespeabe's  ethics 

And    that    shame  would    be,  she  said,  an    eternal 
death. 

Thus  a  true  conscience  manifests  the  law  of  God, 
and  any  transgression  of  its  precepts  is  sin.  But 
to  obey  the  law  grace  is  needed,  for  Shakespeare  is 
no  more  a  Pelagian  than  a  Calvinist.  No  man  re- 
cognised more  fully  the  corruption  of  our  nature  by 
the  fall. 

"  Our  natures  do  pursue, 
Like  rats  that  ravin  down  their  proper  bane 
A  thirsty  evil,  and  when  we  drink,  we  die." 

— Measure  for  Measure^  i.  3. 

And  again — 

"  Virtue  cannot  so  inoculate  our  old  stock, 
But  we  shall  relish  of  it." — Hamlet^  iii.  i. 

Or  again,  the  fight  needed  to  master  our  evil  in- 
clinations— 

"  Brave  conquerors  ! — for  so  you  are, 
That  war  against  your  own  affections, 
And  the  huge  army  of  the  world's  desires." 

— Love's  Labour's  Losty  i.  i. 

And  the  one  means  by  which  this  internal  conflict 
is  to  be  overcome  is  grace — 

"  For  every  man  with  his  aflfects  is  bom  ; 
Not  by  might  master'd,  but  by  special  grace." — IMd. 

This  grace  gives  always  sufficient   strength,  but  if 
neglected  our  weakness  becomes  apparent — 

"  Alack  !  when  once  our  grace  we  have  forgot,' 
Nothing  goes  right ;  we  would,  and  we  would  not." 

— Measure  for  Measure,  iv.  4. 


PRAYER  399 

Lafeu  thus  contrasts  the  office  of  God  and  that  of 

the  devil :  "  The  one  brings  thee  in  grace,  the  other 

brings  thee  out "  ("  All's  Well,"  v.  2),  and  yet  how 

often  temporal  human  favours  are  preferred  to  this 

divine  gift. 

"  0,  momentary  grace  of  mortal  men  ! 
Which  we  more  hunt  for  than  the  grace  of  God." 

— Richard  III.,  iii.  3. 

Grace  or  divine  aid  is  only  to  be  obtained  by  prayer. 
In  the  scheme  of  Calvinistic  predestination,  of  inde- 
pendent morality,  or  of  modern  necessitarianism, 
prayer  has  no  logical  place.  Kant,  in  fact,  said  that 
the  sight  of  a  man  on  his  knees  praying,  to  a  being 
who  was  neither  seen  nor  heard,  excited  doubts 
as  to  his  sanity.  With  the  Catholic  Christian 
prayer  is  the  very  element  of  his  life,  for  his  life 
depends  on  its  inner  communion  with  God.  So  it 
is  with  Shakespeare.  He  has  fixed  times  for  prayer. 
"  Morning  and  evening  he  kneels  in  prayer  "  ("  Much 
Ado  About  Nothing,"  ii.  i  ;  "  Merry  Wives,"  ii.  2) ; 
before  meals  by  grace  ("  Measure  for  Measure," 
i.  2);  at  departure  or  return  ("All's  Well,"  i.  i). 
Thrice  each  day,  Imogen  desires  her  lover's  prayer. 
She  would 

"  Have  charged  him 
At  the  sixth  hour  of  morn,  at  noon,  at  midnight, 
T'  encounter  me  with  orisons,  for  then 
I  am  in  heaven  for  him." — Cymbeline,  i.  4. 

And  this  desire  for  intercessory  prayer,  which  we 
have  seen  expressed  in  the  invocation  of  saints  and 


400  SHAKESPEARE  S   ETHICS 

angels,  is  repeated  through  the  plays  with  regard  to 
those  still  living  on  earth.  Ferdinand  would  know 
Miranda's  name  chiefly  that  he  "may  set  it  in" 
his  prayers  ("Tempest,"  iii.  i),  and  Hamlet  asks 
Ophelia — 

"  Nymph,  in  thy  orisons, 
Be  all  my  sins  remembered." — Hamlet^  iii.  i. 

Thus  prayer  is  the  bond  of  union  between  man  and 
man,  as  between  God  and  man. 

The  attitude  for  prayer  is  that  of  kneeling  as  a 
humble  suppliant.     Portia,  says  Stephano, 

"  Doth  stray  about 
By  holy  crosses,  where  she  kneels  and  prays 
For  happy  wedlock  hours." — Merchant  of  Venice j  v.  i. 

So  Macduif  to  Malcolm  thus  expresses  the  sacrificial 
character  of  prayer — 

"  The  Queen  that  bore  thee, 
Oft'ner  upon  her  knees,  than  on  her  feet. 
Died  every  day  she  lived." — Macbeth,  iv.  3. 

In  spite  of  the  warning  of  Reformers  against  vain 
repetitions,  and  against  prayers  for  the  dead,  Imogen 
says  for  Belisarius,  supposed  to  be  slain,  "  a  century 
of  prayers "  ("  Cymbeline,"  iv.  2)  twice  o'er,  whilst 
she  wept  and  sighed. 

Prayer  must  be  made  "  with  fasting  "  ("  Othello," 
iii.  4),  with  spiritual  labour,  fasting,  and  striving 
("  Measure  for  Measure,"  ii.  2). 


UNANSWERED   PRAYER  401 

Prayer  even  works  miracles,  for  St.  Edward  cures 
the  sick  by 

"  Hanging  a  golden  stamp  about  their  necks, 
Put  on  with  holy  prayers." — Macbeth,  iv.  3. 

Prayer  obtains  both  the  prevenient  grace  which 

preserves  the  soul  from  sin,  and  pardon  after  the 

fall— 

"  What's  in  prayer,  but  this  twofold  force, 
To  be  forestall^,  ere  he  come  to  fall, 
Or  pardoned,  being  down  ? " — Hamlet^  iii.  3. 

But  prayer  must  be  offered  with  faith  and  resig- 
nation to  God's  will,  for,  as  St.  Augustine  says, 
"  What  He  refuses  to  our  prayers  He  grants  to  our 
salvation." 

"  We,  ignorant  of  ourselves. 
Beg  often  our  own  harms,  which  the  wise  powers 
Deny  us  for  our  good  ;  so  find  we  profit. 
By  losing  of  our  prayers." — Antony  and  Cleopatra^  ii.  i. 

Conscience,  then,  according  to  Shakespeare,  is 
man's  guide,  God's  law,  his  rule ;  and  his  free-will, 
aided  by  grace  and  prayer,  are  the  means  by  which 
he  masters  his  lower  nature,  and  rises  to  better 
things.  Such  are  the  poet's  ethics,  and  a  further 
comparison  between  them  and  modern  agnostic 
theories  offers  some  instructive  contrasts. 

First,  as  regards  the  moral  law,  according  to  the 
moderns  there  is  no  fixed  right  or  wrong.  Kant's 
vaunted  "  categorical  imperative  "  of  which  we  hear 
so  much  is  practically   a  phantom,  for  it  is  self- 

2  c 


402  SHAKESPEARE  S   ETHICS 

imposed,  and  since  man  is  autonomous,  he  can 
charge  or  dispense  himself,  at  will,  from  his  own  law. 
Nay,  not  only  can  he  do  so,  but  according  to  the 
necessitarians  he  must  do  so,  when  under  the  influ- 
ence of  overpowering  temptation  or,  again,  when  his 
character  or  destiny  is,  under  the  force  of  circum- 
stances, taking  its  necessary  development.  What 
stress  of  circumstances  exempts  man  from  the  guilt 
of  murder,  adultery,  or  theft,  is  left  undecided,  but 
a  true  fellow-feeling  with  all  that  is  human  will 
teach  the  careful,  discriminating  observer  that  our 
complex  life  is  "not  to  be  embraced  by  any  set 
of  maxims  (that  is,  the  ten  commandments),  and 
that  to  lace  ourselves  up  in  such  formularies  represses 
the  divine  prompting  and  inspiration  which  spring 
from  growing  insight  and  sympathy."  ^  Thus  spoke 
George  Elliot,  and  the  novelists  who  have  followed 
in  her  train  have  developed  their  plots  on  these 
lines. 

In  the  "  Manxman  "  Pete  leaves  his  affianced  bride 
in  charge  of  Philip,  his  dearest  friend.  His  trust  is 
betrayed.  On  his  return  from  South  Africa  Pete 
marries  the  faithless  one,  and  discovers  when  too 
late  the  treachery  of  which  he  was  the  victim ;  with 
what  result  ?  True  to  the  principle  of  modem 
altruism  and  necessitarianism,  Pete  sees  that  he 
should  not  stand  in  the  way  of  his  wife  and  her 
lover,  so  he  surrenders  her  to  him,  goes  back  himself 
to  South  Africa,  and  the  curtain  falls  on  Philip  and 
1  "  MiU  on  the  Floss,"  ii.  462,  463. 


"  THE   MANXMAN  "  403 

Kate  descending  the  castle  steps  df  Douglas  arm  in 
arm,  transfigured  in  the  glory  of  the  setting  sun. 
Charles  Lamb  said  of  the  characters  in  Congreve's 
comedies  that  though  all  were  vain  and  worthless, 
yet  "  they  never  offended  his  moral  sense,  because 
they  never  appealed  to  it  at  all.  They  seemed 
engaged  in  their  proper  element.  They  broke  no 
laws,  no  conscientious  restraints.  They  knew  of 
none."  ^  But  our  modern  novelist  goes  further.  The 
heroine  of  to-day  is  not  presented  merely  inane  and 
unprincipled,  as  a  theme  for  the  satirist's  pen,  but 
she  appeals  to  our  admiration  in  her  falseness  and 
shame,  and  in  the  depth  of  her  degradation  demands 
the  approval  of  our  moral  sense.  "  The  source  of  a 
good  woman's  fall,"  says  Mr.  Caine,  is  due  not 
"  to  the  stress  of  passion,  or  the  fever  of  instinct, 
but  because  she  is  the  slave  of  the  sweetest, 
tenderest,  most  spiritual  and  pathetic  of  all  human 
fallacies — the  fallacy  that  by  giving  herself  to  the 
man  she  loves  she  attaches  herself  to  him  for 
ever."  2 

On  Mr.  Hall  Caine's  principles,  Othello  should 
have  handed  Desdemona  over  to  Cassio  and  returned 
himself  to  Barbary.  He  adopted,  however,  a  different 
course,  for  he  did  not  regard  her  supposed  unfaith- 
fulness as  either  "  the  sweetest  or  most  spiritual  of 
human  fallacies."  Hear  how  he  speaks.  He  could 
have  borne  what  affliction  Heaven  had  pleased — all 

1  "Elia  and  Eliana,"  185.     1893. 
*  "Manxman,"  124.     1894. 


404  SHAKESPEARE  S   ETHICS 

kinds  of  sores  and  shames  on  his  bare  head — to  be 
steeped  in  poverty  to  the  very  Hps,  to  be 

"  A  fixed  figure,  for  the  time  of  scorn 
To  point  his  slow  and  moving  finger  at ; 
Yet  could  I  bear  that  too  ;  well,  very  well ; 
But  there,  where  I  have  garner'd  up  my  heart, 
Where  either  I  must  live,  or  bear  no  life. 
The  fountain  from  the  which  my  current  runs, 
Or  else  dries  up  ;  to  be  discarded  thence. 
Or  keep  it  as  a  cistern,  for  foul  toads 
To  knot  and  gender  in  ! " — Othello^  iv.  2. 

She  is  still  beautiful,  still  has  all  her  outward 
grace,  but  what  was  gone  in  his  eyes  is  her  fideHty 
and  purity.  These  he  loved;  these  are  gone,  and 
their  loss  is  irreparable. 

"  0  thou  weed  ! 
Who  art  so  lovely  fair,  and  smell'st  so  sweet, ' 
That  the  senses  ache  at  thee,  would  thou  hadst 
Ne'er  been  born  ! " — Othello,  iii.  2. 

This  is  Shakespeare's  constant  teaching.  Man 
loves  a  woman  because  she  is  good,  and  because  she 
quickens  and  evokes  all  the  good  in  him,  for  virtue 
with  Shakespeare  is  beauty,  and  sin  a  deformity. 
Shakespeare's  heroines  thus  represent  the  religious 
sentiment,  conscience,  fideHty,  truth.  They  are  to 
be  wooed  and  won,  not  by  an  appeal  to  their  lower 
nature,  but  by  reverence  and  sacrifice.  They  are 
placed  by  man's  side,  as  Eve  was  by  Adam  in  Paradise, 
to  lead  him  to  higher  things.  Where  disordered 
passion  is  pursued  instead  of  true  love,  wreck  and 


SHAKESPEARE  S   HEROINES  405 

ruin  follow,  as  with  Cleopatra,  or,  in  a  lesser  degree, 
with  Juliet.  Another  characteristic  of  Shakespeare's 
heroines  is  that  they  are  essentially  feminine,  and 
are  loved  for  that  quality.  The  "new  woman," 
when  not  corrupt,  is  engaged  in  a  lifelong 
endeavour  to  unsex  herself  and  become  as  far 
as  possible  a  man.  In  such  a  metamorphosis 
Shakespeare  would  have  seen  only  a  hybrid  or 
deformity. 

"  A  woman  impudent  and  mannish  grown 
Is  not  more  loathed  than  an  effeminate  man 
In  time  of  action." — Troilus  and  Cressida,  iii.  3. 

Portia  indeed  has  great  intellectual  gifts,  and  per- 
forms marvellously  her  lawyer's  part,  but  she  evokes 
our  admiration,  not  by  her  power  in  pleading  or  her 
matchless  eloquence,  but  because  she  exerted  these 
gifts  and  braved  all  danger  for  her  husband's 
sake.  She  may  put  on  man's  attire,  but  she  never 
divests  herself  of  her  womanly  dignity  and  modesty, 
of  her  pledged  affection,  and  of  her  high  religious 
principles.  Ophelia,  on  the  other  hand,  has  no 
striking  mental  qualities,  yet  she  wins  the  affec- 
tion of  Shakespeare's  most  intellectual  character, 
Hamlet,  because  of  her  innocence,  simplicity, 
trustfulness,  and  the  depth  of  her  affection  for 
him. 

"  I  loved  Ophelia  ;  forty  thousand  brothers 
Could  not  with  all  their  quantity  of  love 
Make  up  my  sum." — Hamlet^  v.  i. 


4o6  shakespeake's  ethics 

And  simple  though  she  was,  she  could  appreciate 
him.     He  was  all  in  all  to  her. 

"  The  courtier's,  soldier's,  scholar's,  eye,  tongue,  sword, 
Th'  expectancy  and  rose  of  the  fair  state. 
The  glass  of  fashion,  and  the  mould  of  form, 
Th'  observed  of  all  observers,  quite,  quite,  down  ! 
And  I,  of  ladies,  most  deject  and  wretched, 
That  suck'd  the  honey  of  his  music  vows. 
Now  see  that  noble,  and  most  sovereign  reason. 
Like  sweet  bells  jangled,  out  of  tune  and  harsh  ; 
That  unmatch'd  form  and  feature  of  blown  youth, 
Blasted  with  ecstasy.     O  woe  is  me  ! 
To  have  seen  what  I  have  seen,  see  what  I  see." 

— Hamlety  iii.  i. 

Again,  it  was  the  gentleness  and  sympathy  of 
Desdemona  which  first  captured  Othello's  heart,  as 
his  valour  and  renown  mastered  hers. 

"  She  loved  me  for  the  dangers  I  had  passed. 
And  I  could  love  her  that  she  did  pity  them." 

— Bamlety  i.  3. 

And  so  we  might  go  on  page  after  page.  Shake- 
speare would  have  us  regard  women  as  God  made 
them,  and  he  portrays  his  heroines  with  those  special 
feminine  traits  which  alone  render  them  loving  and 
loved. 

Nor  is  his  idea  of  man  less  lofty  and  true.  Man's 
nature  is  indeed  complex  and  diverse.  If  the  soul 
can  reach  to  heaven  the  body  is  but  of  clay,  and 
has  appetites  in  common  with  the  beast.     Hamlet, 


man's  rational  nature  407 

in  one  of  his  gloomy  moods,  puts  both  sides 
before  us : — 

"What  a  piece  of  work  is  man  !  How  noble  in  reason  ! 
how  infinite  in  faculties  !  in  form  and  moving  how  express 
and  admirable  !  in  action  how  like  an  angel !  in  apprehension 
how  like  a  god !  the  beauty  of  the  world !  the  paragon  of 
animals  !  And  yet  to  me,  what  is  this  quintessence  of  dust  1 
Man  delights  not  me ;  no,  nor  woman  neither." — Hamlet, 
ii.  2. 

On  his  earthly  side  man  is  indeed  of  himself  but  a 
"poor,  bare,  forked  animal"  ("Lear,"  iii.  4).  But 
he  has  that  which  gives  him  dominion  over  all  the 
lower  creatures. 

"  Men,  more  divine,  the  masters  of  all  these, 
Lords  of  the  wide  world,  and  wild  wat'ry  seas. 
Indued  with  intellectual  sense  and  souls, 
Of  more  pre-eminence  than  fish  and  fowls, 
Are  masters  to  their  females,  and  their  lords  ; 
Then  let  your  will  attend  on  their  accords." 

— Comedy  of  Errors,  ii.  i. 

By  his  intellectual  soul  man  is  great,  and  that  soul 
he  holds  from  God,  and  for  his  use  of  this  gift  of 
reason  he  is  responsible. 

*  'What  is  man. 
If  his  chief  good,  and  market  of  his  time, 
Be  but  to  sleep  and  feed  ?    A  beast,  no  more. 
Sure,  He,  that  made  us  with  such  large  discourse, 
Looking  before  and  after,  gave  us  not 
That  capability  and  god-like  reason. 
To  fust  in  us  unused." — Hamlet,  iv,  4. 

Shakespeare    knows    nothing    of    man's    evolution 


40 8  shakespeake's  ethics 

from  a  brute,  and  lie  is  wholly  a  stranger  to  the 
doctrine  of  Professor  Huxley,  that  "  the  cunning  and 
brutal  instincts  of  the  ape  or  tiger  ancestors  must 
at  times  break  out  in  any  human  being."  Man  can 
with  God's  help  keep  all  God's  law,  and  be  ever 
chaste,  true,  loyal,  and  just.  The  modest  and 
chivalrous  Macduff  thus  speaks  when  forced  to 
speak  the  truth  about  himself: — 

"  I  am  yet 
Unknown  to  woman  ;  never  was  forsworn  ; 
Scarcely  have  coveted  what  was  mine  own  ; 
At  no  time  broke  my  faith  ;  would  not  betray 
The  devil  to  his  fellow,  and  delight 
No  less  in  truth  than  life." — Macbeth^  iv.  3. 

However  coarse  the  poet  may  be  at  times  in  words 
or  jests,  though  who  can  say  how  much  his  writings 
have  been  interpolated,  no  moralist  was  ever  more 
severe  on  vice.  Impurity,  in  his  judgment,  is  allied 
to  murder,  for  both  sins  assail  God's  creative  power. 
The  one  "  coins  heaven's  image  in  stamps  forbid," 
the  other  "steals  from  nature  man  already  made" 
("Measure  for  Measure,"  ii.  4),  and  the  affinity  of 
these  two  sins  is  again  declared  by  Pericles — 

"  One  sin  I  know  another  doth  provoke  ; 
Murder's  as  near  to  lust,  as  flame  to  smoke." 

— Pericles,  i.  i. 

The  contrast  we  have  noted  between  modern 
ethical  teachers  and  Shakespeare  in  the  moral  law 
is  found  also  in  their  view  of  nature.  God  made 
the  world,  and  "  He  saw  that  it  was  good,"  says  the 


TENNYSON    ON   NATURE  409 

ancient  Scripture,  and  all  men  of  the  ancient  faith 
believed  this  to  be  true.  It  is  not  so  now.  Men 
look  at  the  same  fair  nature,  the  work  of  the  all- wise 
and  all-good  Creator,  but  they  survey  it  through  the 
gloom  of  their  own  doubt  or  unbelief,  and  its  fair- 
ness is  lost.  Consider  on  this  point  the  reflections 
of  Tennyson,  the  recognised  teacher  of  higher  things 
in  this  age.  Nature,  he  says,  is  alike  prodigal  and 
improvident.  Out  of  forty-nine  seeds  cast  into  the 
earth  only  one  fructifies,  the  rest  die  barren.  She 
cares  indeed  for  the  species  or  race,  but  she  is 
"  careless  of  the  single  life,"  ^  and  is  absolutely  indif- 
ferent as  to  the  pain  and  misery  of  the  many,  pro- 
vided only  the  type  is  preserved.  Nay,  she  cares 
not  for  type  neither.  "I  care  for  nothing — all  shall 
go,"  ^  she  is  made  to  say ;  as  a  proof  see  the  fossilised 
remains  of  whole  genera  and  tribes  of  birds,  beasts, 
plants,  cast  as  rubbish  to  the  wind.  What  then 
can  man  think  of  nature's  Lord  !     He 

"  Trusted  God  was  love  indeed, 
And  love's  creation's  final  law, 
Though  nature,  red  in  tooth  and  claw 
With  ravine,  shrieks  against  his  creed." — Und. 

And  what  is  man  himself?  In  his  weakness,  igno- 
rance, grossness,  he  fares  no  better ;  he  is 

"  A  monster  then,  a  dream, 
A  discord.     Dragons  of  the  prime, 
That  tore  each  other  in  their  slime, 
Are  mellow  music  matched  with  \nm."—Ihid. 

1  **InMemoriam,"liv.  »  Ibid,,  Iv. 


410  Shakespeare's  ethics 

Now  compare  Friar  Laurence's  reflections  on  the 
same  subject.  He  surveys  the  same  universe;  he 
faces  the  same  difficulties — physical  pain,  growth 
and  corruption,  moral  evil  and  sin,  life  and  death. 
His  is  no  Utopian,  rose-coloured  optimism ;  he  sees 
things  as  they  are.  But  through  the  light  of  faith 
in  his  own  soul,  he  can  tell  how  in  these  apparent 
contradictions  "one  thing  is  set  against  another," 
evil  ministers  to  good,  poisons  have  a  healing  power, 
and  death  follows  life. 

"  The  earth  that's  Nature's  mother  is  her  tomb ; 
What  is  her  burying  grave,  that  is  her  womb  ; 
And  from  her  womb  children  of  divers  kind, 
We  sucking  on  her  natural  bosom  find  ; 
Many  for  many  virtues  excellent, 
None  but  for  some,  and  yet  all  different 
0  !  mickle  is  the  powerful  grace,  that  lies 
In  plants,  herbs,  stones,  and  their  true  qualities  j 
For  nought  so  vile  that  on  the  earth  doth  live, 
But  to  the  earth  some  special  good  doth  give  ; 
Nor  aught  so  good,  but,  strained  from  that  fair  use. 
Revolts  from  true  birth,  stumbling  on  abuse  : 
Virtue  itself  turns  vice,  being  misapplied  ; 
And  vice  sometime 's  by  action  dignified." 

— Romeo  and  Juliet^  ii.  3. 

Bishop  Wordsworth  finds  these  last  lines  hard  to 
explain,  and  suggests  as  one  solution  the  fact  that 
it  is  a  Romanist  Friar  who  speaks,  one  who  would 
hold  that  evil  may  be  done  for  a  good  end.  But 
the  Friar  is  speaking  of  the  physical,  not  the 
moral  order.  Virtue  here  signifies  what  is  good, 
vile  what  is  vile,  in  the  material  world,  and  the 


MODERN   PESSIMISM  41I 

vilest  things  become  valuable  in  ministering  to  a 
good  purpose.  The  concluding  lines  merely  repeat 
the  sentiment  already  expressed.  That  this  is  so, 
is  clearly  shown  in  the  conclusion  of  the  speech, 
when  the  Friar  shows  that  nature  finds  its  counter- 
part in  man,  in  whose  heart  also  are  two  opposing 
principles,  and  who  becomes  good  or  evil  as  he 
follows  his  own  corrupt  will,  or  the  grace  of  God. 

"  Within  the  infant  rind  of  this  weak  flower 
Poison  hath  residence,  and  med'cine  power  : 
For  this,  being  smelt,  with  that  part  cheers  each  part ; 
Being  tasted,  slays  all  senses  with  the  heart. 
Two  such  opposed  kings  encamp  them  still 
In  man  as  well  as  lierhs,  grace  and  rude  will ; 
And  where  the  worser  is  predominant 
Full  soon  the  canker  death  eats  up  that  plant." 

— Romeo  and  Juliet,  ii.  3. 

And  now  let  us  inquire  as  to  the  cause  of  the 
prevailing  widespread  pessimism.  Why,  for  in- 
stance, should  the  poetry  of  to-day  be,  as  Mr.  A. 
Symonds  tells  us,  the  poetry  of  despair;  or  the 
keynote  of  the  age  be  heard  in  such  tones  as — 

"  Our  sweetest  songs  are  those  that  tell  of  saddest  thought." 

Or  this — 

"  Tears  from  the  depths  of  some  divine  despair." 

And  the  answer  is  that  with  the  endeavour  to 
measure  all  things  by  human  rule  and  gauge,  and 
the  rejection  of  any  higher  guide,  no  clue  is  left 
to  solve  the  mysteries  of  life,     Our  teachers  and 


412  SHAKESPEARE  S   ETHICS 

poets  spend  their  time  in   criticism,  introspection, 
and  analysis,  and  tlie  result  is  nil. 

"  Seek,  seeker,  in  thyself,  submit  to  find 
For  the  stone,  bread,  and  life  in  the  blank  mind." 

The  best  they  can  hope  for  is  thus  expressed  by 
Clough — 

"  To  finger  idly  some  old  Gordian  knot, 
Unskilled  to  sunder,  and  too  weak  to  cleave. 
And  with  much  toil  attain  to  half  believe." 

"  Victorian  poets,"  says  Mr.  Symonds,  "  have  lost 
the  spontaneity  and  the  J03rful  utterance  of  the 
Elizabethan  age."  Like  lago,  they  are  nothing  if 
they  are  not  critical;  and  the  criticism  is  that  of 
the  philosophy  and  science  of  the  day.  Marvellous 
are  the  discoveries  of  science,  but  the  ultimate 
results  of  its  analysis  are  immeasurable  realms  of 
space,  and  endless  epochs  of  time;  and  man  is 
overwhelmed  by  the  immensity  and  eternity  dis- 
closed to  him.  Philosophies  innumerable  spring  up, 
but  none  survive  a  decade.  There  is  more  wealth 
now  than  was  ever  dreamt  of  in  the  past.  This  is 
the  golden  age,  yet  face  to  face  with  a  plutocracy 
is  a  grim,  menacing  multitude,  filled  with  envy 
and  discontent,  waiting  only  for  the  time  to  seize 
what  others  have.  Political  experiments — extended 
franchise,  compulsory  education,  sanitary  improve- 
ments, have  all  been  tried.  What  is  the  product  ? 
The    fear    of    a    social    upheaval    unparalleled    in 


Shakespeare's  belief  in  god        413 

magnitude  and  disaster.  The  distant  rumbling  of 
the  earthquake  may  even  now  be  heard.  Such, 
almost  in  Mr.  Symonds'  words,  is  his  summary  of 
the  world  in  which  we  live,  and  his  only  apparent 
escape  from  the  gathering  storm  and  darkness  "  is 
to  retire  from  the  world  into  an  artificial  paradise 
of  art,  and  there  among  exotic  fragrances  and 
foreign  airs  to  seek  a  refuge  from  the  sombre 
problems  forced  upon  him  by  the  actualities  of 
life."  ^  Yet  again,  this  as  a  fact  he  had  tried.  He 
was  both  the  historian  and  the  advocate  of  the 
heathen  Renaissance,  of  the  philosophy  of  pleasure ; 
but  he  could  not  escape  from  the  problems  of 
death  and  doubtful  immortality,  "  than  which  none 
others  rack  the  heart  of  man  in  his  impotence  and 
ignorance  more  cruelly."  ^ 

To  all  this  poisonous  malaria  and  gloom  Shake- 
speare supplies  an  antidote  which  is  light  and  life. 
He  does  so,  not  by  excluding  the  actualities  of  life, 
but  by  keeping  us  in  the  presence  of  the  one  infinite, 
personal  eternal  God,  the  first  cause  and  last  end  of 
all  things.  For  God  with  him  is  not  a  mere  abstract 
principle  or  an  architect  outside  his  own  work,  or 
a  world  soul  confined  within  the  confines  of  the 
universe — his  God  is  Adonai,  the  "  I  am  who  am," 
the  King  of  Kings,  the  Lord  of  Hosts.  He  is  all- 
seeing  ("  Eichard  III.,"  v.  i ),  has  countless  eyes  to 
view  men's  acts,  omniscient  ("  All's  Well,"  ii.  i ),  Imows 

^  "Essays,  Speculative  and  Suggestive,"  vol.  ii.  237,  238. 
2  Ibid.,  Appendix,  285. 


414  Shakespeare's  ethics 

when  we  are  falsely  accused  ("  Winter's  Tale,"  ii.  i ), 
never  sleeps  ("'  Richard  III.,"  iv.  4),  reads  the  hearts 
("  Henry  VIII.,"  iii.  i ),  unravels  the  thoughts  ("  Ham- 
let," iii.  3),  is  our  Father,  cares  for  the  aged,  feeds 
the  ravens,  caters  for  the  sparrow  ("  As  You  Like  It," 
ii.  3),  the  widow's  champion  and  defender  ("  Richard 
II.,"  i.  2),  works  in  all  His  creatures  ("  Henry  VI.," 
ii.  i),  His  sun  shines  on  the  court  and  the  cottage 
("Winter's  Tale,"  iv.  3),  is  just,  rights  the  innocent 
("  Richard  III.,"  i.  3),  the  one  supreme  appeal  ("  Mac- 
beth," iv.  3),  guards  the  night  ("  Richard  II.,"  iii.  2), 
"  an  incorruptible  judge  "  (Henry  VIIL,"  iii.  2) 

"  To  whose  High  Will  we  bound  our  calm  contents." 

— Richard  II.,  v.  i. 

"  To  believing  souls 
Gives  light  in  darkness,  comfort  in  despair." 

— Henry  VI.,  ii.  i. 

Mercy  is  His  attribute.  "'Tis  mightiest  in  the 
mightiest."  God's  mercy  to  us  obliges  us  to  be 
merciful  to  our  brethren  ("  Merchant  of  Venice," 
iv.  i).  All  human  duties  and  obligations  are  founded 
on  our  duty  to  Him.  Kings  and  all  in  authority  are 
His  deputies,  stewards,  ministers.^  Man  and  wife 
are  united  in  Him.^  And  therefore  marriage  is  in- 
dissoluble.^    He  is  the  God  of  armies. 

"  0  Thou,  whose  captain  I  account  myself, 
Look  on  my  forces  with  a  gracious  eye  ! 
Put  in  their  hands  thy  bruising  irons  of  wrath, 

1  "Measure  for  Measure,"  iii.  2.  '  "Henry  V.,"  v.  2. 

8  "  Twelfth  Night,"  v.  i. 


NOT   god's   spy  415 

That  they  may  crush  down  with  a  heavy  fall 
The  usurping  helmets  of  our  adversaries  ! 
Make  us  the  ministers  of  Thy  chastisement, 
That  we  may  praise  Thee  in  Thy  victory  ! 
To  Thee  I  do  commend  my  watchful  soul, 
Ere  I  let  fall  the  windows  of  mine  eyes  ; 
Sleeping,  and  waking,  0,  defend  me  still." 

— Richard  III.,  v.  3. 

To  Him  alone  victory  is  due. 

"0  God,  Thy  arm  was  here." — Henry  V.,  iv.  8. 

Shakespeare's  idea  of  the  Deity  is,  then,  that  of  an 
ail-wise,  all-powerful,  and  all-good  and  loving  God. 
Doubtless  he  saw  the  difficulties  that  men  feel  in 
the  scheme  of  divine  economy.  He  can  make  Lear 
complain  in  his  bitterness  that  the  gods  make  us  to 
destroy  us  like  wanton  flies.  Hamlet  can  regard 
"  this  world  as  a  congregation  of  pestilential  vapours  " 
("  Hamlet,"  ii.  2).  The  poet  is  not  "  God's  spy."  He 
bows  his  head  to  the  inscrutable  divine  decrees  with- 
out a  moment's  doubt  of  their  justice. 

"  The  words  of  Heaven  ; — on  whom  it  will,  it  will, 
On  whom  it  will  not,  so  ;  yet  still  'tis  just." 

— Measure  for  Measure,  i.  3. 

But  he  does,  as  we  have  already  said,  find  good  in 
evil,  and  a  divine  purpose  in  the  pains  and  sorrows 
of  life.  The  sufferings  we  endure  are  often  the 
remedial  chastisements  of  our  own  sins. 

"  The  gods  are  just,  and  of  our  pleasant  vices 
Make  instruments  to  plague  us." — Lear,  v.  3. 

And  the  calamities  which  befall  the  innocent  are 


4i6  Shakespeare's  ethics 

not  the  cruel  effects  of  a  blind  destiny,  but  are  in- 
flicted by  God  on  His  chosen  ones  to  purify  their 
souls  for  Him. 

"  Whom  best  I  love  I  cross." — Gymheline^  v.  4. 

So,  too,  when  the  pure  die  young  it  is  lest  malice 
should  pervert  their  understanding. 

"  You  snatch  some  hence  for  little  faults  ;  that's  love 
To  have  them  fall  no  more  ;  you  some  permit 
To  second  ills  with  ills,  each  elder  worse." 

— Cymheline^  v.  i. 

Now,  Shakespeare's  knowledge  of  God  is  faith  in 
Him  through  Christ ;  and  it  is  instructive  in  these 
days,  when  our  Lord  is  spoken  of  as  a  mere  human 
teacher,  and  His  teaching  is  compared  with  that  of 
Mahommed  and  Buddha,  to  note  the  reverence,  love, 
and  devotion  with  which  our  Saviour,  the  grace  of 
His  Redemption,  His  Blessed  Mother,  and  all  that  is 
His,  are  treated  by  the  poet.  Thus  Clarence  to  His 
murderers — 

"  I  charge  you,  as  you  hope  to  have  redemption 
By  Christ's  dear  blood  shed  for  our  grievous  sin, 
That  you  depart,  and  lay  no  hands  on  me." 

— Richard  III.,  i.  4. 

Battles,  and  suffering  endured  for  Christ  form  the 
Christian  knight,  the  true  Crusader. 

"  As  far  as  to  the  sepulchre  of  Christ, — 
Whose  soldier  now,  under  whose  blessed  cross 
We  are  impressed  and  engaged  to  fight, — 
Forthwith  a  power  of  English  shall  we  levy  ; 


A    CHRISTIAN    KNIGHT  4I7 

Whose  arms  were  moulded  in  tlieir  mothers'  wombs 
To  chase  these  pagans  in  those  holy  fields 
Over  whose  acres  walked  those  blessed  feet, 
Which,  fourteen  hundred  years  ago,  were  nailed 
For  our  advantage  on  the  bitter  cross," 

— I  Henry  IV.,  i.  i. 

And  again — 

"  Many  a  time  hath  banished  Norfolk  fought 
For  Jesu  Christ,  in  glorious  Christian  field, 
Streaming  the  ensign  of  the  Christian  Cross, 
Against  black  pagans,  Turks,  and  Saracens  ; 
And,  toiled  with  works  of  war,  retired  himself 
To  Italy  ;  and  there,  at  Venice,  gave 
His  body  to  that  pleasant  country's  earth, 
And  his  pure  soul  unto  his  captain  Christ, 
Under  whose  colours  he  had  fought  so  long." 

— Richard  II.  j  iv.  i. 

His  country  is  dear  to  him,  most  of  all,  because  she 
produced  a  race  of  these  Christian  knights  ;  and  he 
contrasts  England,  once  Catholic,  free,  and  chivalrous, 
with  the  degraded,  enslaved  country  of  his  own  age. 

"  This  royal  throne  of  kings,  this  sceptred  isle, 
This  earth  of  Majesty,  this  seat  of  Mars, 
This  other  Eden,  demi-paradise  ; 
This  fortress,  built  by  nature  for  herself. 
Against  infection  and  the  hand  of  war. 
This  happy  breed  of  men,  this  little  world, 
This  precious  stone  set  in  the  silver  sea, 
Which  serves  it  as  the  office  of  a  wall, 
Or  as  a  moat  defensive  to  a  house. 
Against  the  envy  of  less  happier  lands, 
This  blessed  plot,  this  earth,  this  realm,  this  England, 
This  nurse,  this  teeming  womb  of  royal  kings, 
Feared  by  their  breed,  and  famous  by  tlieir  birth, 

2  D 


41  8  SHAKESPEARE'S   ETHICS 

Renowned  for  their  deeds  as  far  from  home 

(For  Christian  service,  and  true  chivalry), 

As  is  the  sepulchre  in  stubborn  Jewry 

Of  the  world's  ransom,  blessed  Mary's  son. 

This  land  of  such  dear  souls,  this  dear,  dear  land, 

Dear  for  her  reputation  through  the  world. 

Is  now  leased  out  (I  die  pronouncing  it), 

Like  to  a  tenement  or  pelting  farm." — Richard  11.^  ii.  i. 

The  poet's  faith  is  seen,  last  of  all,  in  his  death 
scenes.  He  fully  realises  the  horrors  of  the  throes 
of  dissolution.  He  knows  it  as  "  a  carrion  monster, 
with  its  fulsome  dust "  and  "  vanity  brows "  and 
"  sound  rottenness  "  and  "  detestable  bones  " ;  and  he 
describes  all  this  almost  in  the  words  of  Job.  He 
feels  keenly  the  mystery  of  the 

"  Undiscovered  country,  from  whose  bourne 
No  traveller  returns." — Hamlet,  iii.  i. 

Yet,  with  the  Patriarch,  "  after  darkness  he  hopes 
for  light "  again.  Elze  says  that  the  word  immor- 
tality only  occurs  once  in  Shakespeare,  and  fEen  in 
reference  to  unending  life  on  earth  ("  Pericles,"  iii.  2). 
But  the  equivalent  in  the  adjective  form  is  repeatedly 
given.  We  have  seen  how  Macbeth  speaks  of  his 
soul  as  his  "  eternal  jewel " ;  how  Isabel  names  sin 
"  a  death  for  ever " ;  and  Hamlet  tells  us  that  the 
ghost  could  do  nothing  with  his  soul, 

"  Being  a  thing  immortal  as  itself  "  (i.  4). 

And  so  Poins  distinguished  between  Falstaffs  soimd- 
ness  of  body  and  the  need  his  "  immortal  part  had 
of  a  physician  "  ("  2  Henry  IV.,"  ii.  2). 


RIPENESS   IS    ALL  4I9 

The  poet's  teaching  as  to  a  future  state  is,  how- 
ever, far  more  clearly  learnt  from  the  lessons  he 
inculcates  as  to  the  importance  of  dying  well,  than 
from  the  use  of  any  particular  term.  And  his 
teaching  may  be  summarised  in  Edgar's  words  to 
the  desponding  Gloster : — 

"  What,  ill  thoughts  again  ?    Men  must  endure 
Their  going  hence,  even  as  their  coming  hither. 
Ripeness  is  all." — Lear,  v.  2. 

And  that  ripeness  is  obtained  through  the  Sacra- 
ments of  the  Church.  The  acme  of  the  Ghost's 
sufferings  is  reached,  not  in  the  fact  that  he  had 
been  foully  murdered,  but  that  the  death-blow  was 
struck  when  he  was  "  unhousel'd,  disappointed,  un- 
anel'd"  ("Hamlet,"  i.  5).  The  intensity  of  Hamlet's 
vindictive  purpose  is  seen  in  that  he  will  not  slay  his 
stepfather  when  he  is  at  prayer,  but  when  he  is 

"  About  some  act, 
That  has  no  relish  of  salvation  in  it  ; 
Then  trip  him,  that  his  heels  may  kick  at  heaven  ; 
And  that  his  soul  may  be  as  damned  and  black 
As  hell,  whereto  it  gOQ?<."—Hamleiy  iii.  3. 

So  Hastings  says  : — 

"  It  is  a  vile  thing  to  die 
When  men  are  unprepared  and  look  not  for  it." 

— Richard  Ill.y  iii.  2. 

The  horror  of  Beaufort's  death  was  in  his  dying 
without  one  repentant  sign.  Othello  would  not  slay 
Desdemona  when  she  was  unprepared.     The  same 


420  Shakespeare's  ethics 

truth  is  enforced  by  the  care  to  provide  a  priest  for 
the  condemned  criminals,  Abhorson  and  Claudio, 
before  they  met  their  end ;  and  while  he  calls 
those 

"Fools  of  time, 
Which  die  for  goodness,  who  have  lived  for  crime." 

— Sonnet  cxxiv., 

he  yet  recognises  that  a  death-bed  repentance,  with 
proper  dispositions,  does  justify  the  soul.  The 
rule  with  him  is :  as  a  man  hves,  so  shall  he  die. 
The  selfish,  the  brutal,  the  unfaithful  Christian,  die 
without  a  sign  of  religion,  often  by  their  own  hand ; 
without  a  hope,  save  some  natural  desire,  such  as  Cleo- 
patra's, of  meeting  Antony  in  the  Elysian  fields.  The 
consolations  of  religion,  the  hope  that  dieth  not,  the 
prayers  and  the  guardianship  of  angels,  are  reserved 
for  those  who,  at  least  at  the  end,  have  made  their 
peace  with  God.  How  could  the  Christian  philo- 
sophy on  life  and  death  be  better  expressed  than  as 
follows  on  Wolsey's  fall  and  end : — 

"  His  overthrow  heaped  happiness  on  him  ; 
For  then,  and  not  till  then,  he  felt  himself. 
And  found  the  blessedness  of  being  little  : 
And  to  add  greater  honours  to  his  age 
Than  man  could  give  him,  he  died  fearing  God." 

— Henry  VIII. ^  iv.  2. 

Again,  how  deeply  Catholic  is  the  dying  speech  of 
Buckingham : — 

"  You  few  that  loved  me, 
And  dare  be  bold  to  weep  for  Buckingham, 
His  noble  friends  and  fellows— whom  to  leave 


A   CATHOLIC   DEATH-BED  42 1 

Is  only  bitter  to  liim,  only  dying, 
Go  vvitli  me,  like  good  angels,  to  my  end  ; 
Make  of  your  prayers  one  sweet  sacrifice, 
And  lift  my  soul  to  heaven." — Ibid.,  ii.  i. 


Or  to  what  creed  belongs  the  description  of  the 
vision  of  the  dying  Catherine,  the  faithful  Catholic 
Queen  ? 


"  No  !  saw  you  not,  even  now,  a  blessed  troop 
Invite  me  to  a  banquet ;  whose  bright  faces 
Cast  thousand  beams  upon  me,  like  the  sun  ? 
They  promised  me  eternal  happiness  ; 
And  brought  me  garlands,  Griffith,  which  I  feel 
I  am  not  worthy  yet  to  wear,  1  shall  assuredly." — Ibid. 


We  think,  then,  Shakespeare's  moral  teachings  in 
direct  opposition  to  those  of  modern  growth.  He 
made  it  his  task  to  show  "virtue  her  feature,  scorn 
her  image,"  and  his  characters,  not  the  plot,  are  the 
aim  of  his  drama.  His  characters  show  that  th'©- 
rule  of  man's  life,  and  his  way  to  perfection,  is  no 
shifting,  vague,  subjective  standard  of  his  own  making, 
but  the  unchangeable  law  of  God.  Hence,  in  his 
eyes,  right  and  wrong  are  always  in  necessary  and 
essential  antagonism ;  and  though  full  of  tender  com- 
passion for  human  frailty,  he  exhibits  no  morbid 
sympathy  with  sin,  nor  regards  its  punishment  as 
other  than  a  retributive  act  of  divine  justice.  As 
Coleridge  says,  he  "  has  no  interesting  adulteries  or 
innocent  incests,  no  virtuous  vice.  He  never  renders 
that  amiable  which  reason  and  religion  alike  teach 


42  2  SHAKESPEARE  S   ETHICS 

US  to  detest,  or  clothes  impurity  in  the  garb  of 
virtue."     In  his  sonnets  and  dramas  he  forbids 

"...  Fond 
Lascivious  metres  to  whose  venom  sound 
The  open  ear  of  youth  does  always  listen." 

— Richard  III.,  ii.  i. 

His  heroes  are  brave,  good,  and  true.  But  their 
goodness  is  based,  not  on  Puritan  self-complacency, 
or,  negatively,  on  the  absence  of  temptation,  but  on 
self-conflict,  waged  and  won  for  God's  sake  and 
through  His  grace. 

In  an  age  of  doubt  and  despondency,  single 
sentences  of  Shakespeare  speak  like  the  voice  of 
conscience.  Against  unbelief,  he  warns  us  that 
"  reverence  is  the  angel  of  the  world."  The  philo- 
sophy of  the  day  is  "  excellent  foppery."  Against 
novelties  he  tells  us  "  to  stick  to  the  journal  course," 
and  he  never  allows  us  to  be  "out  of  countenance 
with  one's  nativity,"  or  to  fear  in  the  hour  of  dark- 
ness if  our  souls  are  prepared.  "  Ripeness  is  all." 
Hence  he  performs  the  poet's  true  function,  the 
cleansing  of  the  sick  soul ;  and  he  does  so  with  in- 
comparable charm  and  power,  not  only  by  aid  of  his 
matchless  genius,  but  because  his  mind  is  filled  with 
the  eternal  forms  of  truth  and  beauty,  and  his  ideals 
are  divine. 


INDEX    OF    NAMES 


Alabaster,  99 

Alcock,  John,  Bishop  of  Ely,  6 

Alleyne,  349 

Alphonsus  of  Liguori,  St.,  380 

Anjou,  Duke  of,  161 

Antonio  of  Portugal,  161 

Appletree,  Sir  John,  80 

Arden,  family  of,  60,  65 

Arden,  Edward,  66,  91-95,  123 

Arden,  Mr.  Edward,  66,  79,  94 

Arden,  Sir  John,  66,  loi 

Arden,  Mary,  65,  66 

Arden,  Simon,  67 

Arden,  Thomas,  66 

Ariosto,  9 

Aristotle,  34,  35 

Arnold,  Matthew,  30 

Arrowsraith,  John,  84 

Arundell  of  Wardour,  family  of, 

320,  322 
Augustine,  St.,  5,   19,  210,  218, 

221,  223,  237,  269,  368,  401 

B 

Babington,  Anthony,  1 23 
Bacon,  Lord,  41,  43,  176 
Bainton,  William,  80 
Bale,  45,  119,  120,  339 
Ball,  John,  184 
Bancroft,  339 
Barber,  Mrs,,  81 
Bardolph,  George,  81,  83 
Barlow,  F.,  79 
Barne,  115 
Barnes,  345 

Bameshurst,  Nicholas,  80 
Barrett,  Dr.,  80 


Bartlett,  Thomas,  82 
Bates,  80,  83 
Bates,  John,  78,  103 
Bates,  Thomas,  78,  103 
Beaton,  Cardinal,  123 
Beatrice,  23 

Beaufort,  Cardinal,  123 
Beaufort,    Margaret,  of    Rich- 
mond, 6 
Beaumont,  154 
Beccadelli,  21 
Bellamy,  361 
Bentivoglio,  Cardinal,  56 
Bere,  Abbot,  6 
Bernard,  St.,  357,  368 
Birch,  395 
Birde,  6 

Bishop,  William,  Dr.,  80 
Blackfriars  Theatre,  373 
Blount,  Sir  C,  loi 
Boccacio,  53 

Boetius,  St.,  218,  220,  267 
Bohn,  358 
Bolt,  78 

Bona,  Cardinal,  273 
Boswell,  150 
Bowdler,  48 
Bowman,  40 
Braun,  144 

Braye,  Sir  Reginald,  6 
Brenner,  Friedrich,  273 
Brethgirdle,  69 
Brettergle,  William,  95 
Brewer,  265 
Brooke,  116 
Brooke,  William,  79 
Browne,  Sir  Henry,  66 
Bruno,  Giordano,  20,  34 
Bryce,  289 


423 


424 


INDEX    OF   NAMES 


Bucknill,  390 

Burbage,  John,  82 

Burbage,  Richard,  98 

Burke,  182 

Burleigh,  Lord,  97,  318-320 

Burnett,  127 

Buswell,  John,  80 


Caied,  5,  383,  388,  394 

Calderon,  36 

Calvin,  5,  29 

Camden,  159 

Campbell,  342 

Campion,  Edmund,  13,  198,  333, 

354 
Carlyle,  10 
Carter,  Rev.  T.,  9,  47.     Chap.  II. 

passim 
Cartwright,  73,  74 
Cary,  Sir  George,  319 
Catesby,  family  of,  65,  66 
Catesby,  Anne,  66 
Catesby,  Lady,  66 
Catesby,   Robert,    78,    lOi,    103, 

123 
Catesby,  Sir  William,  66 
Catherine  of  Siena,  St.,  197 
Cayley,  351 

Cecil,  42,  93,  99,  loi,  103,  176 
Cellini,  Benvenuto,  8 
Challoner,  32 
Chaucer,  23,  53,  265 
Chettle,  102 

Cheyney,  Bishop  of  Gloucester,  81 
Cinthio,  25 

Clapton,  Mrs.  William,  82 
Clarence,  George,  Duke  of,  61 
Clifford,  Bishop,  271 
Clopton,  family  of,  64 
Clopton,  Hugh,  60,  64 
Clough,  412 

Coleridgo,  S.  T.,  26,  154 
Colet,  Dean,  6 
Collier,  97,  108 
Combe,  John,  64 
Commander  Michael,  84 
Cook,  Abbot,  39 
Cook,  George,  77 
Cook,  John  {alias  Cawdry),  82 


Cook,  William  {alias  Cawdry),  82 
Coombe,  family  of,  64,  93 
Cope,  Alan,  213 
Cornelius,  Father,  321,  322,  333 
Cotton,  Sir  Robert,  68 
Cotton,  Robert,  64,  77 
Court,  Julian,  81-83 
Cranmer,  Archbishop,  5,  29 
Crescembeni,  308 
Cresvvell,  Father,  68 


Dante,  4, 9, 15,  17, 19,  23,  31,  32, 

36,  197,  292,  390,  397 
Danvers,  Sir  John,  loi 
Darlington,  Father,  296 
Darrell,  328 
Davenant,  149 
Davenport,  Rev.  T.,  88 
Davies,  Rev.  John,  109 
Davies,  Rev.  Richard,  lOl 
Davila,  190 
Davis,  Rev.  T.,  96 
Davison,  133 
Dekker,  45,  1 16,  173 
Dene,  Bishop,  7 
Derby,  family  of,  320 
Derby,  Edward,  Earl  of,  321 
Devas,  181 
Devereux,  Robert.     See  Earl  of 

Essex 
Dibdale,  Richard,  78 
Digby,  123 
Dim  mock,  Roger,  78 
Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  19 
Dios,  Roger,  69 
Dodd,  163 

Dollinger,  Dr.,  29,  46,  204 
Donne,  103,  105,  1 06 
Donne,  Henry,  106 
Douce,  270,  312 

Dowden,  3,  5,  31,  32,  41,  45,  50,  52 
Drake,  216 
Drayton,  Michael,  136 

E 

Edward  I.,  60 
Edward  IIL,  60,  323 
Edward  VI.,  63 


INDEX    OF    NAMES 


425 


Elliot,  George,  402 

Elze,  19,  125,  418 

Erasmus,  6 

Essex,   Lettice,  Countess  of,  93. 

See  Countess  of  Leicester. 
Essex,  Robert  Devereux,  Earl  of, 

99,  100,  307,  319,  322-324 


Fawkes,  Guy,  123 

Feis,  Jacob,  295 

Fisher,  John,  B.,  6,  197 

Fitzherbert,  64,  190 

Flathe,  Dr.,  314 

Fletcher,  45,  154,  203,  205,  339 

Flower,  Sir  John,  150 

Fluellen,  William,  80,  83 

Fox,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  6 

Foxe,  179,  187,  189 

Francis  of  Valois,  161 

Freeman,  189 

Fulman,  Rev.  William,  109 


G 


Garnet,  Father,  363 
Gasquet,  Dr.,  6,  8,  187 
Gervinus,  112,  1 17,  121,  127,  209, 

216,  364,  395 
Giffard,  Bishop  of  Worcester,  60 
Goodman,  123 
Gower,  78 

Gowrie,  Conspiracy  of,  340 
Green,  Edward,  82 
Green,  J.  R.,  184 
Green,  Rev.  T.,  88 
Green,  William,  loi 
Greene,  Robert,   ii,  21,  98,  113, 

114,  218,  314,  339 
Gregory  XI.,  197 
Gregory  XIII.,  357 
Gresham,  123 
Greville,  family  of,  64,  93 
Greville,  Sir  Fulke,  77 
Greville,  John,  64 
Griflfin,  ap  Roberts,  81 
Grocyn,  6 


H 

Hackett,  73 

Hales,  392 

Hall,  204 

Hall,  the  Rev.,  94 

Hall  Caine,  402,  403 

Hallam,  30 

Halliwell,  59,  82,  %T,  88,  95,  98, 

109,  no 
Harrington,  Father,  106 
Harrington,  Sir  John,  258 
Harrington,  Richard,  80 
Harsnett,  Bishop,  281,  328 
Hart,  Thomas,  88 
Hartley,  328 

Hatton,  Sir  Christopher,  114,  176 
Hay  ward.  Dr.,  99,  102,  121,  156 
Hazlitt,  26,  342 

Heath,  Archbishop  of  York,  95 
Heine,  15 
Henri  II.,  161 
Henry  of  Navarre,  161 
Hense,  19,  20 
Hentznei',  42 
Hergenrother,  123,  148 
Heycroft,  Henry,  70,  71 
Heywood,  Elias,  106 
Hey  wood,  Jasper,  106 
HoUinshed,    118,    198,   204,   208, 

366,  388 
Holloway,  Prior,  6 
Horner,  4,  31 
Howard,  family  of,  43 
Howard,  59 

Howard,  Lord  William,  107 
Huddesford,  family  of,  79 
Hunsdon,  357 
Hunter,  286,  320 
Huxley,  /)o8 

I 

Infanta  of  Spain,  133 

Ireland,  90 

Ireland,  Samuel  Henry,  90 


James  of  Compostella,  St.,  280 
James  L,     149,    16 r,    322,   339, 
349.  352,  354,  356,  368 


426 


INDEX    OF   NAMES 


James,  Thomas,  80 

Jeffreys,  Mrs.,  78,  81 

Jennings,  John,  84 

John  XXIL,  212 

John  of  Austria,  Don,  161 

Johnson,  Dr,  150 

Jones,  Richard,  78 

Jonson,  Ben,  22,  45,  49,  103- 105, 

251,  270,    349,    350,  367,  373, 

374.  376 
Jordan,  87-90 


K 

Kant,  399,  401 

Kan  us,  123 

Keble,  30,  32,  33 

King,  Bishop,  6 

Knight,  26,  87,  264,  265 

Koleheth,  295 

Kreyzig,  26,  119,  128,  209,  216 


Lamb,  Charles,  403 

Lambarde,  lOl 

Lang,  Andrew,  123 

Langton,  Stephen,  117 

Large,  Sir  Edward,  63 

Lee,    Sidney,    59,    87,    218,    244, 

270 
Leicester,    Dudley,    Earl   of,   74, 

93.  94.  176,  319,  323 
Leicester,   Lettice,   Countess   of, 

3 1 9, 3  24 .    See  Coun  tess  of  Essex 
Lettice.     See  above 

Lily,  "3,  339 

Linacre,  6 

Lingard,  160 

Lists   of  disaffected  Nobles   and 

Gentry,  162,  163 
Littleton,  Sir  Thomas,  61 
Lodge,  Thomas,  113 
Louis,  Dauphin  of  France,  133 
Lucy,  family  of,  64,  93 
Lucy,  Sir  Thomas,  73,  77,  81,  95, 

138 
Lucy,  William,  64 
Luther,  5,  9,  13,  33,  47,  368,  378 


M 

Macaulay,  56,  57,  112 
Malone,  88-90 
Manchester,  Duke  of,  324 
Manzoni,  265 
Margaret,  Lady,  61 
Marlowe,  Christopher,  ii,  22,  113- 
115,    156,   203,   205,   218,   339, 

345 
Marsden,  73 
Marston,  114,  373 
Martene,  272 
Maskell,  ^7,  381 
Massey,  G.,  216 
May,  Philip,  357 
Medina  Sidonia,  133 
Melanchthon,  122 
Middlemore,  family  of,  65,  78,  80 
Middlemore,  Robert,  67 
Milton,  30-32,  181,  392 
Montague,  family  of,  66,  320 

I^rd,  91,  107 

Montaigne,  19,  20,  295 

Monteagle,  Earl  of,  10 1 

Moore,  Philip,  80 

More,  320,  321,  363 

More,  Thomas,  B.,  6,  20,  54,  106, 

204,  329,  330,  333,  371 
Morley,  H.,  201,  277,  341 
Morris,  Father,  328,  329 
Moseiey,  Thomas,  88-90 
Mountfort,  78 
Munday,  Anthony,  136,  203,  205 

N 
Nash,  113,  339 
Neale,  74 

Neri,  Philip,  St.,  393 
Nevile,  family  of,  43 
Newman,  Cardinal,  32,  33,  394 
Norfolk  Register,  187 
Norton,  339 
Norwich  Lollards,  188 
Nottingham,  Earl  of,  351 


Oldoastle,  Sir  John,  135-138 


Ovid,  35 


INDEX   OF   NAMES 


427 


Page,  William,  79,  83 

Parma,  Duke  of,  133 

Parsons,  Father,  68,  69,  176,  193, 

333.  35i>  357,  368 
Paul  v.,  368 
Paulet,  42 

Paulett,  Sir  Amyas,  133 
Payton,  88-90 

Peckham,  Sir  George,  328,  333 
Peele,  George,  114 
Percy,  family  of,  43 
Perrot,  Robert,  65 
Petrarch,  9,  197,  220 
Petre,  Dr.,  91 

Philip  II.,  133,  161,  339,  357 
Phillipps,  Halliwell.      See  Halli- 

well 
Pius  v.,  St.,  68,  272 
Pius  IX.,  191 
Plato,  34,  218,  259 
Plautus,  255 
Plumptre,  Dr.,  295 
Plymley,  Peter,  351 
Porter,  family  of,  93 
Poundes,  333 
Prynne,  109 
Pynson,  312 
Pythagoras,  34,  35 


R 

Raich,  128,  134 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  41,  351 

Ranke,  367 

Redman,  Bishop  of  Ely,  6,  7 

Reynolds,  Thomas,  83 

Rheims,  Seminary,  278 

Richard  II.,  80 

Rutland,  Earl  of,  10 1 


St.  Cross,  Hospital  of,  195 
Salmon,  Patrick,  321 
Sanders,  69,  148,  154 
Savage,  70 
Scory,  Bishop,  258 
Scott,  Mumford,  78 
Scott,  Sir  Walter,  48 


Scroop,  Sir  C,  340 
Selden,  347,  365 
Sellyng,  5  ^ 

Shakespeare,  Christopher,  82 
Shakespeare,    John,    Chap.     II. 


Sheffield,  Lady,  93 
Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  22,  23,  2l8 
Silkstride,  Prior,  6 
Skevington,  Bishop,  7 
Skinner,  William  Colyn,  188 
Smith,  William,  Bishop  of   Lin- 
coln, 6 
Somerville,  92-94,  1 23 
Somerville,  Mrs.,  94 
Southampton,  family  of,  320 
Southampton,  Henry  Wriothesley, 
Earl  of,  66,  97,  loi,  216,  242- 

244,  323 
Southampton,      Mary      Browne, 

Countess  of,  66,  97 
Southwell,  Robert,  B.,  270,  361, 

362 
Spedding,  201,  203 
Spenser,  8,  9,  11,  22,  23,  45,  218, 

220,  222,  338 
Stamford,  Henry,  106 
Stapleton,  190 
Starchie,  328 

Stourton,  family  of,  320,  322 
Stourton,  Lord,  320-322 
Stuart,  Mary,  123,  133,  161 
Stubbs,  Bishop,  208 
Sude,  William,  60 
Surrey,  Lord,  10,  22,  218,  220 
Sutton,  Sir  Richard,  6 
Swift,  Dean,  150 
Symonds,  Addington,  411-413 


T 
Taine,  31 

Taylor,  Jeremy,  360 
Templars,  Order  of,  212 
Tennyson,  Lord,  409 
Thacker,  William,  94 
Theobald,  Count,  358 
Thomas   of   Aquinas,  St.,   5,  19, 

218,  246 
Thorn  bury,  107 
Throckmorton,  family  of,  65,  66 


428 


INDEX    OF   NAMES 


Throckmorton,  Francis,  123 
Throckmorton,  Sir  George,  66 
Throckmorton,  Job,  113 
Throckmorton,  Sir  John,  67 
Throckmorton,  Sir  Robert,  66 
Thummel,  205 
Tichborne,  123 
Towers,  339 
Trench,  Archbishop,  30 
Tyler,  335 


Ulrici,  115 


U 


Valla,  Lorenzo,  21 
Vaux,  Lord,  328 
Vehse,  3 

Vienne,  Council  of,  212 
Virgil,  4 

w 

Walton,  339 
Warburton,  286 
Warham,  Archbishop,  6 
Warwick,  Earl  of,  6 1 


Watson,  134,  163 
Webster,  22 
Welsh,  Joan,  81 
Wentworth,  Sir  Roger,  329 
West,  Bishop,  6 
Westmoreland,  Earl  of,  159 
Weston,  William,  Father,  328, 333 
Whateley,  Sir  Robert,  80 
Wheeler,   John,  65,   72,   80,    82, 

lOI 

Wheeler,  Mrs.,  81 
Wheeler,  Thomas,  102 
Whetstone,  25 
Whitgift,  Archbishop,  339 
Wilkes,  150,  179 
Willoughby,  Mrs.,  80 
Wilson,  159 
Wilson,  R.,  136 
Winter,  Thomas,  103 
Winwood,  340 
Wise,  John,  84 
Wishart,  123 
Wolsey,  Cardinal,  5,  7 
Wordsworth,  Bishop  of  St.  An- 
drews, 46,  48,  396,  410 
Wyatt,  9 
WyclifiEe,  183,  184 


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